


Delta-Tale (Or, the Goat, the Spade King, and Ebbot)

by saybyebus



Category: Chronicles of Narnia - All Media Types, Deltarune (Video Game), Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Chara is a jerk, Crossover, Frisk is a Sweetheart, Gen, I'm Bad At Tagging, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, chara's chocolate obsession, contains both movie and book aspects, it's almost like things get changed in an au right?, kris is a tired millenial, this is a stupid pet project that wouldn't leave me alone so here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-03
Updated: 2020-12-12
Packaged: 2021-02-23 03:13:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 37,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23004832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saybyebus/pseuds/saybyebus
Summary: I’m writing about Undertale and Deltarune in 2020 because screw it. Cringe culture is dead. Also, I’m trans and I do what I want.I wasn’t the only one who thought that the bit with the closet in Deltarune was kind of familiar, right? Anyway, yeah, this is a crossover where the Underground is pretty much Narnia and the human kids have to save it from the Spade King's evil clutches. If any new chapters of Deltarune come out and they invalidate whatever I wrote for whatever reason, oh well. What's a boy going to do.
Relationships: none lol
Comments: 3
Kudos: 21





	1. Evacuation to Ebbot

**Author's Note:**

_Delta-Tale_ (Or, _the Goat, the Spade King, and Ebbot_ )

based on the hit RPGs by Toby Fox

and the world of Narnia, discovered by C.S. Lewis

_Blessed are the merciful. They will be shown mercy. – Matthew 5:7_

_Yes! It is more magic. – Aslan the Great Lion_

Sans really should have known better than to make Frisk’s bedtime story a book that started with the sentence “In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit.” The habit first started when Frisk caught wind of how Sans read to Papyrus at night, and soon they wanted in, too. And Sans, being more or less a dad substitute for the kid, obliged. He’d grabbed the first book he saw when they begged for a bedtime story. It ended up being one of Mr. Tolkien’s books, to his mild dismay. It took Sans and Frisk a week or two to finish the whole thing, reading one chapter a night, but eventually they finished. Before he knew it, he had the kid hooked on fantasy adventure stories. He shot down Frisk’s pleas to read them _The Lord of the Rings_ , but he couldn’t escape the next one they tried foisting on him.

“How about this one?” Frisk asked as Sans went to put them to bed one night. They held out a well-worn paperback with a picture of a lamp-post and a funky goat man on the front. The spine said it was book number 2 in its series, which left Sans confused.

“What’s this?” he said as he took it. The cover read _THE LION, THE WITCH, AND THE WARDROBE_ in artsy gold text.

“It’s about kids who go into a wardrobe and find another world!” Frisk exclaimed. “Isn’t that cool? It’s like how I fell down Mount Ebbot and found you guys.”

“It sounds like when Kris went into the supply closet at school. Didn’t they find some kind of Dark World there?”

“Yeah!”

“Well, if you’ve been to the Underground and Kris has been to the Dark World, why do you want to read this? It will be just like what you’ve already _lived_. Won’t that be kind of boring?”

“It won’t. This is different. And it’s a good story. Please, dad?”

Sans sighed. Frisk had used the Dad Ultimatum on him. He wasn’t going to get out of it that easily, and truth be told, he didn’t mind anyway. Toriel liked the idea of reading to Frisk. It would, in her words, “get them interested in books for life.” Sans had teased her about raising a nerd if that was the case. Just the sort of lighthearted fun they’d poke at each other.

Anyway, since Frisk had pulled out the Dad Ultimatum and was pretty set on hearing about lions, witches, and wardrobes, Sans sat in a panda armchair, flicked the book open, and began the story. It was an older book, and sometimes Frisk didn’t know what a word meant, so Sans had to stop and explain it to them. But they listened intently, getting lost in a world of snow and talking animals...

“...and oh! The cry of the seagulls! Can you hear it? Can you remember--” Sans looked up from the text. Frisk lay cuddled in their blankets, making little noises in their sleep. They must have dozed off during the coronation scene. Sans chuckled softly and stood up.

“Guess that means story time is over for the night. Welp. Sweet dreams, kid.” He put the book away and patted Frisk on the head. As he turned off the lights before leaving, he assumed that was the end of the Narnia adventures for now. But that wasn’t the case. Falling asleep to tales of good triumphing over evil, they began to dream...

[(|)]

Children play war, but not peace. Artists like to cast the likenesses of martial kings and conquerors in brass and then erect them in cities. We have people we call “war heroes,” but I don’t think I’ve ever heard the term “peace hero.” There’s a whole literary genre devoted to war stories. Whenever a government starts a big campaign against something, they call it a war. The war on drugs. The war on terrorism. Feminists talk about a war on women. One of the strongest words in this language, “warrior” – look what word is in its stem. War, war, war. You say it enough times, and it sounds like a foreign word or even nonsense. If only war were nonsense and a foreign concept to humankind! But it seems that our race is predisposed to clash against itself. Wars often cause stories. In the case of this one, it was two wars who started it.

The first one was something that happened ages ago. By the time our protagonists were born, it had faded to legend. It was the conflict between Humans and Monsters, the two races that ruled the Earth. Nobody knows how the fight started – before then, the Humans and the Monsters lived together in peace. But apparently, one day they could no longer handle each others’ differences. As a result, there was nothing but bloodshed and chaos on the earth. Finally, the Humans emerged victorious, having overpowered the Monsters with their mighty _determination._ They called forth their strongest magicians and had them open a door to another world. Into that place were the Monsters forced, and a barrier sealed them inside. The barrier was not perfect, though – there were small openings all over this world, and that is why I have this story to tell you. But we’ll get to that later.

The second war happened much later. This time, the combatants were humans fighting themselves, as all subsequent battles had been. Humanity is its own worst enemy. Again, the reason for this fight was immaterial. Its cause concerns someone else, but not us. I will tell you what happened as a result of this war. In the past, wars were fought on battlefields, like civilized people. This time, one side of the conflict decided to bring the battle home, and they committed the grave offense of dropping bombs on civilian territory. War is hell, they say, and there is no hell quite like watching bombs fall from the sky, inescapably, wondering where they will fall and what they will destroy. Because of the danger, parents had to evacuate their children to safer ground.

One mother arranged for her three children – a boy and two little girls – to go to the countryside and live in a manor-house called Ebbott. It was called that because it sat near the foot of a mountain, which also bore the name Ebbott. A professor of the arts owned this manor, and he had for seemingly forever. He had a real name, of course, but everyone called him The Professor. Even his housekeeper of at least two decades called him that. The housekeeper, a sour old lady called Mrs. Ziegelbaur, was the one who brought the children to the manor after picking them up at the train station, in her horse-drawn cart. From the minute she picked them up, she was sure to lay down the law of The Professor’s house – that there would be “no shoutin’, no runnin’, no improper use of the dumbwaiter, NO TOUCHIN’ OF THE HISTORICAL ARTIFACTS...and above all else, _no disturbin’ of The Professor._ ”

The children did not like Mrs. Ziegelbaur very much.

The housekeeper looked down at the children from her perch at the top of the foyer’s stairs, not all that unlike a hawk sizing up mice. She turned to disappear into the house’s second level, but snapped her fingers at the children. They took that as a command (not a request) to follow her. Kris said “yes ma’am, thank you,” to try to get on her good side. Chara grumbled about what a drag Mrs. Ziegelbaur was. On their way up the stairs, Frisk stole a peek at a door on the mezzanine, which had some light shining out from under it. As she did, a pair of shadows, feet shadows, appeared in the slice of light. She hurried up the stairs to wherever her siblings were going.

The professor had set up the children in a guest room which Ziegelbaur had thrown together for them. It was horribly dull and gloomy. Besides a bookcase full of dusty old almanacs and an ancient radio, there was nothing of interest. Three single beds were set up against the walls, each with a small nightstand and candle dish. Ziegelbaur dumped the children in the room and told them that if they were late for dinner, they would receive no dinner.

“...the attacks, which lasted several hours, ravaged several countryside towns and left many homes destroyed….parents are looking to evacuate their children to safer locations around the country,” droned the radio that night as Chara fiddled with it. Kris eventually walked over and shut it off.

“Hey!” Chara complained.

“That’s enough for one night,” he said. “It’ll just upset us. Besides, it’s time you and Frisk settled down for bed.”

“How come you get to stay up late?”

“Because I’m the oldest.”

“No fair! You _always_ say that!”

“Because it’s always true.”

“The sheets feel scratchy,” Frisk whined, interrupting them. She was bundled in her bed, but far from falling asleep.

Kris knew what was really bothering her, though, so he gave her a sympathetic smile as he sat on the end of the bed. “Wars don’t last forever, Fri. We’ll be home soon. And until then, we can do anything we want here! That old Professor won’t get in our way.”

“Yeah, but that jerk of a housekeeper might,” Chara cut in.

“We can explore the grounds tomorrow,” Kris went on. “That should be fun, right? Maybe you can look for bunnies.”

[(|)]

But the next day, there was to be no exploring of the grounds or looking for bunnies. A thunderstorm had rolled in overnight, so slashing rain and roiling lightning kept the children indoors. Kris had a massive dictionary on his lap and was doing his best to keep his siblings occupied.

“Gas-tro-vascular,” he said slowly. “Come on, Chara. Gastrovascular.”

“Give me a hint,” Chara said with no interest whatsoever. She was laying on her back under a chair, picking at the strings and glue beneath the seat.

“It’s Latin.”

“Is it Latin for ‘worst game ever invented?’” she snarked.

Kris sighed and shoved the giant dictionary away, raising a sizable dust cloud. Frisk scooted up to him.

“I know! We could play hide-and-seek,” she suggested.

“But we’re already having _so much fun_ ,” Chara sassed. “Right, Kris?”

“Come on, Kris. Please?” Frisk gave him her best puppy eyes. “Pretty please?”

It was really hard to resist her puppy dog eyes. Kris smirked and said “One...two...three...”

Frisk bolted away with a cheeky smile. Chara slid out from under the chair with a “Wait, what?” and scrambled out of the den. The girls scrambled for hiding-places while Kris counted to one hundred. Chara dashed upstairs to the second floor. Frisk wasn’t too far behind her, even if she was a little slower than her sister. Chara found a large, heavy curtain behind a honky tonk piano and slipped behind it. Frisk tried to join her, only to get repelled by Chara pushing her away.

“I was here first! Go find your own spot!”

Frisk grunted at her, then hurried down the corridor. She frantically tried every door she came across, but they were all locked. All except for one at the end. Frisk pulled it open and entered the room, and then she stopped cold.

The spare room was empty except for a large, lovely wardrobe. The wardrobe was built from a rich, dark cherry wood. It had silver handles, and the doors to it bore carvings of lions and horses. Frisk approached it curiously. She tugged at the door handle, expecting it to be locked. But it wasn’t. It swung open, and a few mothballs rolled out. Inside the wardrobe hung many fur coats and leather jackets. Frisk instinctively started petting the soft fur and smelling the leather. It was just too much to resist, especially for an impulsive small child. Absolutely wanting this soft and sweet-smelling hiding spot, Frisk climbed inside the wardrobe. But she didn’t shut the door all the way because, after all, it is a very foolish thing to shut oneself up in a wardrobe. She kept the door open just a crack and peeked out. She could still hear Kris counting. He had reached the seventies by now. Frisk backed up inside the wardrobe, to hide herself better. Lots of plush fur rolled over her, and then smooth leather, and then...something prickly. And cold.

She turned around. This wardrobe had no back panel! She had come across a pine tree, in the back of a wardrobe of all places! Stunned, Frisk pushed past the branches, getting a rush of cool wind. Doing so, she stepped into a clearing in a forest. Overhead hung a dim gray sky with blue clouds. White mist curled around the trees, giving the whole place an air of mystery. Frisk took it all in with wonder. She looked around at everything as she wandered further in.

It wasn’t long before she found an iron post sitting in the middle of the woods. A golden glow came from the old-fashioned oil lantern at its top. The glass was clouded and the iron had corroded a bit...this lamp-post had been here for some time. Frisk laid a hand on it. The iron was very cold, almost like ice. She resisted the temptation to put her tongue on it to see if it got stuck.

While she gazed at it, there was a noise of feet shuffling. Not her feet – a stranger’s feet. Frisk glanced around nervously. She didn’t have much of a place to hide, except behind the lamp-post. She clung to it, as if it were a battle barricade, while the stranger in the brush emerged. They came out into the open, to the great shock of them both.

The stranger was a walking, living skeleton monster. He was quite tall – about six feet – and had noodly arms and legs. His bulky torso and white shirt made him look top-heavy, and his boxy boots seemed comically large on his feet. A red scarf hung off his shoulders. He carried a parasol and a few parcels wrapped in paper, making it look as though he’d just finished his Christmas shopping. The skeleton monster was cute in an odd way. But Frisk didn’t think that at first. She ducked behind the lamp-post, squealing in terror.

“Good gracious me!” exclaimed the skeleton man. And he dropped all his parcels.


	2. Tea and Pasta with Mr. Papyrus

Shivering, Frisk leaned to one side and glanced around at the clearing. The skeleton man was hiding behind a tree – and not very well, at that. He peeked out shyly at her. Frisk made the first move; she emerged from behind the lamp-post and slowly picked up one of the packages. When she did that, the skeleton man came out of his hiding-spot and approached cautiously, holding out his parasol at her. His arm shook. He stammered and stuttered as he walked around the clearing and collected his fallen parcels. His voice was a bit squeaky, and he rolled his R’s.

“Were you hiding from me?” Frisk asked. She handed him the package.

“N-no, I was just...I, um...I didn’t want to scare you.”

They had given each other a good scare, truth be told, but neither of them really meant any ill-will towards the other.

“If-if it’s not rude for me to ask,” Frisk said, “what are you? Are you magic? Skeletons don’t walk and talk, most of the time.”

The skeleton man grinned shyly. “Why, yes, little…creature. I’m made from magic. All us monsters are. But what are you? You don’t look like any kind of small monster I’ve seen.”

“I’m not a monster! I’m a girl!” Frisk picked up the last parcel off the ground and, in a matter-of-fact tone, added, “And _actually_ , I’m the oldest in my class. I’m nine.”

When Frisk mentioned she was a girl, the skeleton man’s expression changed; he looked very curious.

“A girl?” he asked. “You don’t mean are you a Daughter of Eve?”

A daughter of Eve? Now what does that mean, Frisk wondered. Did it have anything to do with the story of Adam and Eve?

“My mom’s name is Helen,” she said, confused.

“Yes, but you are, in fact, a human?”

Frisk nodded slowly.

“Incredible,” he mused. “How did you get here?”

She explained the story like so: “I was hiding in the wardrobe in the Ebbot manor, and—“

“Ebbot? I’ve never heard of that place. Is that in the Dark World? Or the Otherworld. It goes by either name.”

“Otherworld? What’s that?”

“Why, it’s _everywhere_ , little human!” With a chortle, he gestured grandly at the landscape around them. “Everything from the lamp-post here in the West Woods, across the Field of Hopes and Dreams and the Waterfall and the Great Ruins, all the way to the New-Home Castle at the eastern sea, every stick and stone you see...every flower is the Otherworld.”

A gasp escaped Frisk’s mouth. “This is an awfully big wardrobe.”

“Wa-Drobe?” the skeleton man muttered to himself; then he seemed to remember something. “Oopsie daisy! I forgot to introduce myself. My name is Papyrus.”

“Very nice to meet you! I’m Frisk.” She held out her hand to him. Mr. Papyrus looked at it quizzically.

“Oh, you shake it,” she explained.

“Why?”

Frisk started to answer, and then realized that “I...don’t know! But people do it when they meet each other.”

There was a slight pause, and then Mr. Papyrus grabbed her hand. He had on big red mittens that absolutely swallowed up Frisk’s small hand. Not quite understanding what she had meant by “shake it,” he gingerly started waggling it, like a box of cereal. Frisk couldn’t help but giggle.

“Well, Miss Frisk from the prosperous city of Wa-Drobe in the gorgeous land of Ebbott,” Mr. Papyrus said cheekily as he continued to rattle Frisk’s hand, “how would it be if you came and had tea with me today?”

“That sounds great!” Frisk’s eyes lit up. “Oh, but my siblings, they would miss me.”

“It won’t be long,” the skeleton man insisted. “There’ll be a warm fire, with the best tea I can brew, some cookies...and we might even break into the spaghetti.”

He noticed some clouds coalescing overhead, and he unfolded his parasol just in time to shield them both from a sudden burst of rain.

“Rain,” Frisk said. “Maybe I should go inside for a while, after all. Especially if you have spaghetti.”

She giggled.

“By the bucket-load!” He offered her his hand. “And what’s more, it isn’t every day that I get to make a new friend.”

Arm in arm, the little girl and the skeleton man wandered the misty landscape. They walked through a grove of pine trees, which filled the air with their sweet scent. The rain continued to sprinkle from the clouds, but not a drop fell on the two. It rolled off Mr. Papyrus’s parasol, keeping them nice and dry. As they went along, Frisk told Mr. Papyrus what life in her world was like, and he told her funny stories about his brother. After a time they came upon a small, squarish stone crag, tiger-striped from centuries of erosion. A wooden door was set in its base. It had a little wreath hung on a peg.

“Here we are!” Mr. Papyrus said. “My home. Come on inside. I may have to poke the fire, first. It was burning rather low when I left.”

He held the door open for Frisk like the gentleman that we was. After she stepped inside, he shook the water off his parasol and hung it on a hook by the door. Despite being carved from stone and dirt, Mr. Papyrus’s house was quite warm and clean. It smelled like cinnamon toast. On one wall, a nice fire crackled in the fireplace. Two cozy-looking chairs sat in front of it.

“One for me, and one for a friend,” Mr. Papyrus explained.

Frisk explored the house while Mr. Papyrus prepared the tea things in his kitchenette. Of particular interest to her was his bookcase. It was packed full of old leather books that had titles like _The Definitive Collection of Gaster’s Reports,_ _How the CORE Was Invented_ _,_ and _The New Book of Theories on Humans_. The skeleton man, it seemed, had quite an interest in science. Frisk also found a framed picture on the shelf. It showed another skeleton monster, but this one had a rounded skull. One crack ran from his crown to his right eye, and the other crack lay between his left eye and his mouth.

“That would be my father, Dr. W.D. Gaster,” Mr. Papyrus told Frisk.

“He has a nice face,” she said. In truth, she found Gaster’s face more scary than nice, but she didn’t want to be rude. “My father’s a soldier. He’s away fighting a war right now.”

“My father went to war, too,” the skeleton man said, setting down the tea tray. “But that was a long time ago. Before we lost him in the accident.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.” Frisk’s father had been away at war for some time, but that wasn’t quite the same as being gone forever. “You must miss him a lot.”

“I do, but he wouldn’t want me to be sad. Especially not about the war – that’s so far in the past. Before this dreadful dark magic settled over the place, making it dreary and cold.” Mr. Papyrus handed her a cup of the freshly brewed tea on a saucer, along with a cookie.

“The cold isn’t so bad,” Frisk said as she settled into one of the cozy chairs. She drank some of the tea, which was sweet and soothing. “Especially when it snows for winter-time. Then there’s ice skating, and snowball fights, ooh, and Christmas!”

“No, not Christmas,” Mr. Papyrus said sadly. “That’s the thing here in the Otherworld. Though winter may come, Christmas never can.”

“You said a magic spell made the world like this?” Frisk asked.

Mr. Papyrus didn’t seem to hear her. “Oh, but you would have loved the Otherworld before the gloom came. We had such lovely summers! The animals would play together, and us monsters would sing stories about our lives and dance the whole night away. The music, I tell you!”

He paused. “Would...would you like to hear some now?”

“Ooh,” Frisk mused, sipping more tea. “Yes, please!”

She adored music, especially mysterious and interesting songs she’d never heard before. Half the time, she could be found humming a tune she made up on the spot. Mr. Papyrus set his teacup and saucer aside, and he reached for a small box atop the mantel. Opening it revealed a curious instrument: a wooden flute with several horns and not just one.

“Are you, by any chance, familiar with Otherworldian lullabies?” Mr. Papyrus inquired as he got out his instrument and examined it to see if it was clean.

“No, sorry,” Frisk said. She hadn’t a clue how Otherworldian music in general ought to sound, much less its lullabies. Even so, she was eager to hear.

“That’s good,” Mr. Papyrus said with a little “nyeh!” of a chuckle. “Because this might not sound anything like one. The Great Papyrus exceeds at many things. But not music.”

“Aw, you’re too hard on yourself, I’m sure you’re a wonderful musicia—“ Frisk trailed off as Mr. Papyrus began to play. The sound that came from the flute ran through her body and touched the very core of her soul. She felt emotions she’d never imagined and thought of things that had never before crossed her mind. It as as though the very spirit of this mystical world channeled itself through the flute’s song.

Thoroughly entranced by Mr. Papyrus’s music, Frisk gazed at the fireplace. Flames danced over the glowing red logs. Then a tongue of white fire leapt up, forming itself into the shape of a prancing deer. As soon as it appeared, it vanished. Frisk gasped, not sure if what she had just seen was even real.

Mr. Papyrus tilted his head at the fire, encouraging Frisk to keep watching. And so she did. The lick of white reappeared, this time accompanied by another. This one had the shape of a huntsman on a horse, toting a bugle. And another figure appeared, and another, and another. The stag galloped in circles, pursued by the hunters.Papyrus’s tune only intensified as the figures celebrated, dancing in a circle. To Frisk, it seemed as though he controlled their movement through his music. It was not totally unlikely that he did. Their movements enthralled Frisk, hypnotized her...she felt her eyelids grow heavy. A moment later, her teacup and saucer tumbled to the floor as she passed out entirely.

Mr. Papyrus ended the song on a high and sustained note before the fire put itself out with a roaring cry. And not just the roar of flames with which you may be familiar; it was that of a much greater being. The candles in his house house also extinguished, surrounding him in darkness and ribbons of smoke. He exhaled fearfully. Something terrible was calling him, and it was a call he did not want to answer.

[(|)]

Frisk awoke with a cricky neck from falling asleep in the armchair. Blinking, she gazed up at the window; beyond it the sky darkened with oncoming night. Stars began to emerge from the deep blue, like sprouts pushing up from the dirt.

“Oh, it’s been hours. I should go,” she whispered, beginning to rise from the chair.

“You cannot, human. It’s too late,” Mr. Papyrus said. He wasn’t in his chair any longer. Now he cowered by the door, a heap of pathetic bones. Frisk immediately rushed over to him.

“I’m such a bad, terrible skeleton,” Mr. Papyrus sobbed. Tears ran out of his eye sockets. “I’m not great at all. I am the worst skeleton who ever lived!”

“No, you can’t be!” Frisk protested, digging a handkerchief from her pocket. “You can’t have done anything that bad. Why, you’re the nicest skeleton I’ve ever met. What could you have done wrong?”

“Then, my child, I’m afraid you have met a poor specimen.” The skeleton man dabbed at his face with the hanky, which his large hand swallowed right up. “And it’s not a thing I’ve done. It’s something I am doing.”

“But what are you doing?” Her face was wrinkled up in confusion, her mind swampy.

“I’m kidnapping you.”

“What?” The breath hitched in Frisk’s throat. “You...you wouldn’t do that.”

“It’s _him_ , don’t you know?” Mr. Papyrus croaked. “The wicked Spade King who put the spell on this forest. The spell that makes it always dreary and sad. He’s no real king, but it doesn’t matter – he’s too powerful for any of us. It was his command that if any of us found a human in the wood – anywhere in the Otherworld, we-we were to kidnap it and bring it to him. He wants no threat to his power!”

“But you wouldn’t do that!” Frisk cried again. “I thought you were my friend.”

Papyrus looked up at him, wiping away tears. They held each other’s glances for a moment. He thought about things. And he made a tough decision, but one that he knew was what he wanted to do.

Minutes later the human and the skeleton man tore through the woodlands, trying to get back to the Lamp-post. Unlike the walk here, this was a frantic, fearful run. Stopping for a mere second could be dangerous.

“He may already know you’re here,” Mr. Papyrus warned. “He has eyes and ears everywhere in this forest. Even some of the trees are spies for him!”

In this frame of mind, every tree and bush looked sinister. Gone was the sense of magic that permeated the Otherworld; now there was only suspicion and foul sorcery afoot. Frisk clung closer to her friend.

The skeleton all but threw Frisk towards the lamp-post when they finally arrived. “Do you know where to go from here?”

“I think so.”

“Good. Go as soon as you can.” He took out the handkerchief and attempted to give it to Frisk, who would not take it.

“Keep it,” she told Mr. Papyrus. “I think you need it more than I do.”

Once again, tears started to fall from the skeleton’s eye sockets. He sniffled and wiped his face with the hanky.

“Hey, hey,” Frisk said softly, taking his hands to comfort him. “It’s all right.”

“I just want you to know,” said Papyrus between sniffles, “that whatever happens, I’m happy I met you. You’ve made me feel warmer than I have in years. Take care.”

“Good-bye,” they said, and then Frisk had to go. The wardrobe opening wasn’t far from the lamp-post. She slipped past the leather coats and fur, returning to our world. Stumbling out into the spare room again, she shouted,

“I’m all right! Don’t worry, I’m back! I’m all right!”


	3. Disbelief and the Spade King

From another room, she heard Kris saying, “Ninety-eight, ninety-nine, one hundred!” He reached one hundred as she emerged from her adventure in the wardrobe. That left her a bit confused. Surely she had been gone for so long that they would be looking for her by now?

“Hello!” she called out as she walked down the corridor that led to the spare room. “I’m back, I’m all right.”

“Shut up!” Chara poked her head out from behind the curtain. “You’ll blow my cover.”

Well, it was too late for that, because seconds later, Kris arrived at the scene. Chara sighed, knowing the jig was up, and threw back the curtain.

“Uh, I’m not sure you two really _get_ the idea of this game,” Kris said. “You’re supposed to hide.”

“But weren’t you wondering where I was?” asked Frisk.

“Duh! That’s the _point_ ,” Chara told her, rolling her eyes.

Kris scratched behind his ear. “Do you not want to play anymore, Fri?”

Frisk stepped back, now very confused. It was as though, for all the time she spent in the Otherworld and at Mr. Papyrus’s house, barely a minute had passed in this realm.

“But I’ve been gone for hours…”

[(|)]

Kris opened both wardrobe doors and pushed aside all the coats hanging on the hooks. He didn’t find any tree branches in the back – just a plain panel of wood. For good measure, Chara squeezed between the wardrobe and the wall to check for anything weird in the back. She knocked on the closet’s back panel a few times.

“Sorry, Frisk, but the only wood in here is the back of the wardrobe,” Kris concluded, stepping away. “One game at a time, sis. We don’t have an imagination like yours.”

“I didn’t imagine it, though!” Frisk protested.

“That’s enough,” he said firmly. As the oldest and at their mother’s request, he tried his best to look after his siblings. This included, he assumed, keeping them in line when they started coming up with irrational stories.

“I wouldn’t lie to you!” Frisk’s eyes grew a bit teary. Her voice warbled.

“I believe her,” Chara interrupted. Frisk looked hopeful.

“You do?”

“Sure.” Chara smirked. “Did I tell you two about the football field I found in the bathroom cupboards?”

Kris groaned; not only did he have to deal with one sister taking a game of make-believe too far, but now the other one decided to be a total jerk, too. “Will you just stop it? Why do you have to make everything worse?”

“Just a joke,” she said, shrugging.

“Grow up.”

Suddenly quite angry, Chara got up in Kris’s face, and nearly shouted “Shut up! You think you’re Dad, but you’re not!”

And she stormed away, making sure to stomp so her shoes made lots of noise on the hardwood floor. Kris watched her leave, then looked at Frisk.

“I don’t think I handled that one very well, huh?”

“I’m telling you, it was really there. It was real,” Frisk insisted.

“I mean it, Frisk: enough is enough.” Kris turned and left to catch up with Chara, leaving his sister alone again. She gazed at the beautiful, bizarre wardrobe again, and with a sigh, she shut the doors. Then she, too, departed from the spare room.

[(|)]

That night, Frisk turned over and over in her bed. No matter how hard she tried to sleep, she couldn’t. Not because of those dreadful scratchy sheets, or because of Kris’s snoring, or how Mrs. Ziegelbauer’s nasty cooking sat funny in her tummy. No, she couldn’t sleep because thoughts of the wardrobe wouldn’t go away. She lay on her side, watching the candle atop her nightstand.

Eventually, enough was enough. She sat up, got her shoes, and slipped them on. After wrapping up in her fluffy bathrobe, she carried the candle dish to the spare room. As quiet as she tried to be, she hadn’t counted on Chara making a midnight bathroom break. So Chara spotted her sneaking down the hallway, and she knew it was to the wardrobe. Where else would Frisk be going in the dead of night?

Not knowing that Chara was following her, Frisk carefully slipped into the spare room. The wardrobe stood there, patient and beautiful as ever. A sense of hope filled her. Perhaps _tonight_ , things would change. And they would, unexpectedly. The moment of truth came when she opened the wardrobe door.

A rush of air blew over her when she did. The breeze was cold and sweet, like peppermint candy. It extinguished her candle. She smiled.

The Otherworld was calling.

Chara had not seen the wind blow out Frisk’s candle. She saw Frisk abandoning the candle dish on the floor and climbing into the wardrobe, and that was it. And so, Chara decided to do something silly and immature. She decided to also go into the closet and tease her sister some more. At that time, Chara was a nasty and rude child. Bullying her younger sister, and anyone smaller than her really, made her feel better about herself. Even if she was only older than Frisk by a year.

“Frisk,” she called softly, “Frisk...”

She pounced inside the wardrobe, hoping to scare Frisk. “Boo!”

But there was nobody inside. Chara pushed further inside the wardrobe, nearly closing the door behind her. Because, despite her rude-ness, she knew that it is a very foolish thing to shut oneself up in a wardrobe.

“Hope you’re not afraid of the dark,” she teased. Still no response from Frisk, so she continued forcing her way past the thick fluffy coats. It seemed like an unusually large wardrobe, going on and on. Suddenly, tree branches scratched at her.

“What the--” Chara stumbled and fell on her hands and knees in a layer of leaf litter. In front of her lay a woodland clearing, with a purplish sky overhead. The air carried a deep chill.

“Frisk?” Chara asked, standing up; her tone was now confused and a little scared, rather than teasing. “Frisk, you can come out now...I think I believe you?”

But nobody came. Wherever Frisk was, it wasn’t anywhere near here. What’s more, there didn’t seem to be _anyone_ there. She didn’t see a lamp-post, a skeleton man, a Spade King, or anything else that Frisk had jabbered about.

For a few moments, there was no sound but the wind rustling the trees. Then, Chara heard a faint jingling sound. Like Christmas sleigh bells. She squinted, trying to figure out what the approaching jangly thing was, but the trees shook in the wind and make it seem as though it could be coming from anywhere. And then, all at once, a sledge pulled by two huge sock horses (with no faces) plowed through the brush, roared past Chara, and fairly knocked her to the ground. She fell on her rear and tumbled down into a ditch. At once the carriage halted, the horses snorting and flicking their ears. Chara staggered to her feet just in time to allow the driver to notice her.

A horrible little man leered out at her from the back of the sledge. He had gray skin, yellow eyes, and jester’s motley in dark purple. The little man jumped out of the sleigh as soon as he spotted her, snapping a whip and screaming.

Chara ran away, of course, having nothing with which to fend off this crazy jester man. But she wasn’t a very fast runner, and soon enough, the he threw out his whip and entangled her ankles in it. Down she fell into the leaf litter, and the jester jumped on top of her. He flashed a knife, and Chara had the bad feeling he wouldn’t hesitate to use it.

“What is it now, Jevil?” someone with a deep voice asked from the sleigh, sounding exceedingly bored.

“Tell him to leave me alone!” Chara begged. She swatted at her attacker’s face with her bare hands, infuriating him even further. She still had no idea why this crazy jester had gone after her.

“You dare address the Spade King, child of man, child of man?” Jevil raged.

“Wait,” said the voice (the Spade King, evidently). “What was that?”

“This is a human child, human child,” Jevil repeated. “But not for long.”

“Jevil, you fool. Get off of them.”

Obediently the jester slid off of Chara. A very large shadow fell over her. Somewhat hesitantly, she glanced up and beheld the Spade King.

Never before had Chara seen anyone so tall. He loomed at least eight or nine feet, and his wide frame only compounded that sense of bigness. His heavy black cloak also added to his imposing figure. He had massive shoulders and thick arms, ending in big paws with sharp black claws. He had a teardrop-shaped head, a spade marking where his eyes should have been, and a dog’s mouth with large, jagged teeth. But that wasn’t his only mouth. He had a second, even bigger mouth on his stomach. A silver chain ran out of it, connecting to the spade-shaped blade on the end. He kept a tight grip on it.

Chara wasn’t one to scare easily, but at the sight of the Spade King, her mouth went dry. He looked like he could snap in her half.

“What’s your name, Daughter of Eve?” he asked. His voice was so deep and hoarse.

“Chara,” she said in a very small voice.

“Tell me...how did you come to enter my dominion?”

“I-I followed my sister, and—“

“Your sister?” he interrupted. “There are more of you? How many?”

“Um, just one other. My brother Kris. Frisk is the only one who’s been here before. She said she met someone called Mr. Papyrus. Kris didn’t believe her, and...I didn’t either. But, uh, I do now.”

“Chara dear, you look cold. Lying around in the mud can’t be good for you. Come.”

She did not really want to go with the Spade King, but she _was_ cold and he _was_ a lot nicer than his driver. At least, she thought so. Chara let him lead her back to the sledge, and he helped her inside. It was a more snug fit next to him than she expected. He draped the end of his black cloak over her. The physical closeness to him was exceedingly uncomfortable. She didn’t say anything, though.

“I apologize for my jester’s poor manners,” the Spade King said. “How would you like something warm to drink?”

Chara glanced up at him. “Oh. Okay.”

From somewhere in the folds of his massive cloak, the Spade King took out a tiny pewter vial. Tipping it slightly, he let a single drop of mauve fluid fall to the ground. It landed on a flower, whose stem straightened up and petals curved into a cup shape. The flower transformed into a goblet right before her eyes. The Spade King looked at Jevil expectantly. With a grumble, the jester picked up the goblet and gave it to Chara.

The liquid inside was a delicious warm, fruity concoction. It went down with ease and chased away the cold, wet feeling that clung to Chara. She even forgot how much she disliked being wrapped in the Spade’s mantle.

“How did you do that?” she asked in wonder.

“A little bit of magic,” he explained. “I can make just about anything you want.”

She took another sip from the cup. “Can you make me taller?”

He laughed. “I mean, anything you want to eat or drink. Speaking of, would you like a snack to chase that drink?”

“Sure. Chocolate?” Of course she requested chocolate. That was her favorite treat in the whole wide world.

“As you wish.” He let another drop of magic fluid fall to the ground. This time, it fell on a clump of wilted shrubbery. The bush closed in on itself and transformed into a box wrapped in a green ribbon. Jevil plucked it off the ground and handed it to the Spade King, who passed it to Chara.

Chara ripped the cover off the box as soon as he set it in her lap, revealing stacks of the finest milk chocolate. Without a second thought, she broke off a square and set it on her tongue. Right away it melted in her mouth, washing it in that delicious milk chocolate flavor.

“Mmmm,” she mumbled, already reaching for a second. “So good.”

“I’m glad you like it.”

Chara said nothing, for now she was frantically digging at the box, pulling out square after square of chocolate. One was nothing, two was nowhere near enough...she had to have more! They were too good to let go to waste.

The Spade King spoke up in the middle of her feast. “You know, Chara, I would love to meet the rest of your family – your sister and brother.”

“Nothing special about them,” she said distantly, stuffing yet another square of chocolate in her mouth.

“But of course. I’m sure they’re nowhere _near_ as interesting as you, dear. You see, I have no children of my own...but have such an air of grace and nobility to you, Chara. I can see you becoming a Princess of the Dark world...perhaps someday, maybe even Queen.”

There was absolutely nothing graceful, noble, or queenly about Chara at the moment. Her face and fingers were splattered with chocolate. She shoveled the treats into her mouth as if they were the first food she’d gotten in days. She licked the crumbs from her sticky fingers. The Spade swiped the hat off Jevil, much to the jester’s chagrin, and used it to wipe the mess from Chara’s face.

“But you would have to bring your family,” he added.

“Oh.” Chara’s disappointment was palpable. “But I don’t want Frisk to be queen, too.”

She scowled as her fingers scraped an empty box. No more chocolate. She stared hard at the box, hoping that the Spade King would ask if she wanted more. Chara did not realize this, but the food that he had offered her was magical. The chocolate was imbued with magic, and it had quickly taken effect on her. It felt good and filling, but it really just made a person more hungry. In fact, a person who ate the Spade’s magic food would go on doing so if not stopped, until they very well ate themselves to death.

“Well, you needn’t worry, dear,” said the Spade King as he took away the empty box. Instead of asking if she wanted more, he dropped it on Jevil’s head. “But a Queen needs servants, doesn’t she?”

“I can bring them,” Chara said, eyes still locked on the box. Now she felt even hungrier than before.

“Excellent! Do you see those two hills over there, the ones with snow at the top? My house is right between them. You simply must come – and be sure to bring your siblings. Oh, what a lovely place it is! You will love it. There are rooms, whole _rooms,_ full up to the brim with chocolate.”

“Are-are you sure I couldn’t have more now?” asked Chara.

“No!” he said quite harshly, startling her. Then his tone softened. “Wouldn’t want to spoil your appetite. Besides, it won’t be _too_ long before we see each other again, right?”

“Of course, Your Majesty. I hope so.” Chara dismounted the sledge awkwardly.

“Until then, dear.” The Spade King signaled to Jevil to get the sledge going. The jester snapped the reigns and yelled “Yah! Yah! Yah!” at the sock horses. With a jangling of bells, the sleigh glided over the grass and disappeared into the mist. Chara watched it leave, then stood in the midst of the clearing with a blank look. Now she didn’t quite know what to do. Although the Spade King seemed scary, he had been ever so nice to her. And promises of being Princess were too much for her to resist. While she wondered about how to convince Kris and Frisk to come with her to the Spade King’s house, small footsteps crunched behind her. She turned around to see Frisk approaching, a big excited smile on her face.

“Oh, Chara! You’re here!” she cheered. “I told you it was real, and oh Chara! Isn’t it beautiful!”

Frisk threw her arms around her sister. It caught Chara off-guard. Normally she blocked any attempts of her siblings to hug her. She said she was too “cool” for that.

“Erm...what are you doing here, Frisk?” Chara asked, prying off her sister.

“Why,I was with Mr. Papyrus. He’s all right, the nasty Spade doesn’t know about me meeting him. We had great tea and gross pasta and he played his flute and—“

“Wait. What do you mean, ‘nasty Spade?’” Now Chara was rather flummoxed. She had just met the Spade, and as far as she could tell, he wasn’t nasty. At least not to her.

“He calls himself the Spade King, but he’s not the real ruler,” Frisk said in a low, almost conspiratorial voice. “All the good Otherworldians hate him...Chara? Are you okay? You don’t look so good.”

“Well, what do you think?” Chara said defensively, coming up with a quick excuse. “We’re standing in some weird woods in the middle of the night. It’s freezing! Where’s the exit?”

“The wardrobe is this way,” Frisk said, leading the way. “Come on! We should tell Kris what we saw! He _has_ to believe us now.”


	4. All Together Now

“Wake up, Kris! Wake up wake up wake up! See, I told you it’s really real!” Frisk yelled, charging into the bedroom and pouncing on Kris’s bed. “It’s here, it’s really here!”

“Huh? Christmas already?” a delirious, half-asleep Kris stammered as he was shaken from sleep. “But I thought it was July...Ouch! Frisk, get off me!”

“Wake up!”

“Shh. What are you yelling about?” He rubbed his eyes.

“The Otherworld is real, like I said,” Frisk said, eyes sparkling. “It was in the wardrobe again!”

Kris rolled over on his side. “You’ve been dreaming, Frisk. Go back to bed.”

“It wasn’t a dream, though!” she insisted. “It was real. I was there, and I met Mr. Papyrus again, and you know what? Chara was there too.”

At this, Kris paused, then climbed out of the bed. He switched on the lights and faced Chara.

“You saw the skeleton?” he asked her.

Before Chara could say anything, Frisk added: “Well, she didn’t _actually_ see Mr. Papyrus. I met up with her after...wait. Say, what _were_ you doing, Chara?”

Chara was quiet for a moment. If she said no, she hadn’t seen the skeleton, that would have been truthful. But something about the way Frisk had called the Spade King “nasty” and suggested he was a bad person rubbed her the wrong way. It may have been some part of her warning that maybe Frisk was right, maybe it was a bad idea. She didn’t want to admit that, though, and so she did something terrible and mean. She told a dirty lie.

“I, um, I was just playing along,” she said. “Sorry, Kris, I shouldn’t have encouraged her. You know what they say about kids these days: they just don’t know when to stop pretending.”

Tears welled up in Frisk’s eyes. She ran out of the room with a wail, and then her siblings could still hear her crying in the hallway. Kris went to go get her. He shoved Chara into one of the beds as he passed her.

Between her tears and being distraught over Chara saying something so mean, Frisk wasn’t looking where she was going. She didn’t even know where she was running, except to get away from her siblings. So she didn’t see the Professor as he was making his way down the hallway, and she bumped right into him.

“Oh!” he said in surprise at suddenly colliding with a weepy little girl. “What’s this?”

Frisk glanced up at him with a trembling lip, and then she hugged him while pressing her face into his soft silk robe.

There was a thunder of footsteps behind him. Mrs. Zigelbauer appeared, hastily tying on an apron over her nightclothes.

“You children are one shenanigan shy of sleepin’ in the stable!” she threatened, but quickly changed her tone when she saw the Professor.

“Professor, sir,” she said to him. “I’m sorry about all this. I thought I told these brats that they were not to disturb you—“

“It’s quite all right, Zigelbauer,” he replied. “I’m sure there’s an explanation. I will handle it. But first, I think this one is in need of a little hot chocolate.”

He guided the still-sniffling Frisk over to her. The housekeeper took the girl by the hand. Her demeanor softened considerably.

“Come along, dear,” said the housekeeper, leading Frisk to the kitchen. By now, Kris had watched this whole exchange unfold, and he stood awkwardly in the hallway. He turned to go back to the room, and hopefully back to bed, when the Professor cleared his throat loudly.

“I’d like to speak with you, Kris, if you don’t mind.”

[(|)]

The Professor stirred a little wooden stick in a cup of hot wassail. He’d given up smoking years ago. He sat behind his old cherrywood desk, strewn with way too many books and papers. Kris occupied a creaky chair on the other side. The Professor’s office was a bit too quiet, except for a ticking clock on the west wall.

“This has been a very exciting night for my housekeeper,” the Professor said after a long pause.

“I’m so sorry. It won’t happen again. Honest,” Kris said quickly. “It’s my sister.”

“The weeping one?”

“Yeah. She’s upset.”

“Hence the weeping.”

“It’s nothing, really. Just a kid being dumb.”

The Professor raised his eyebrow. “Children are not dumb. What makes you say that?”

“She says she’s found a magical other world. In the upstairs wardrobe.”

At the mention of the wardrobe, the Professor perked up. Instead of the wry expression he had up until then, he now looked genuinely curious. “The wardrobe, did you say?”

“Yeah. Frisk thinks there’s a whole magical world inside, with a forest and a skeleton man…She won’t stop bringing it up. I’m starting to get worried, sir.”

“What was it like?” he asked in wonderment.

Kris missed the point of his question. “Like talking to a nutcase! My sister’s losing it.”

“No, no. Not that. The forest, the magic world. Tell me about it.”

Now it was Kris’s turn to be awestruck. “You’re not saying you _believe_ her!”

“You don’t?”

“No! It doesn’t make any sense – there’s no logic to it. How could there be a magic world in someone’s closet?”

The Professor sat back down and muttered to himself, “What _do_ they teach in schools these days? This was exactly what I was concerned about. All this stuff and nonsense about Common Core, and the children don’t know how to think critically anymore.”

“Chara said they were only pretending,” Kris explained. “So I think it’s a game, only Frisk is taking it too far.”

“And is Chara usually the one to tell the truth?”

“Well…no…” Kris admitted. “This would be a first for her.”

“It’s a matter of the process of elimination, Mr. Kris,” the Professor said. “There are three possibilities. If Frisk is not lying and not mentally impaired, then logically we have to assume she is telling the truth.”

Kris sat there for a moment, still dumbfounded. How could the Professor, a distinguished and intelligent adult, acknowledge that Frisk’s wardrobe fantasy could be real? Now Kris was starting to feel like _he_ was the one going crazy.

“Are you suggesting I should _believe_ her?” he asked.

“Isn’t she your sister?” retorted the Professor as he took a hearty gulp of his wassail. “You’re a family! It’s about time you acted like one.”

[(|)]

Kris kept the Professor’s words in mind, but had a hard time acting on them. It was a tall order to just go along with Frisk’s wild claims about the other world in the wardrobe. After his and Chara’s investigation of the wardrobe that turned up nothing, he was almost certain there was no evidence to back them up. It hurt to see Frisk so upset at him, but he wasn’t about to push back the coats to look at the back panel of a closet again.

He didn’t want to spend the entire summer stressing over it, though, especially when the rain finally cleared up. A day or two after the incident, the clouds parted to reveal a sunny sky. The kids took advantage of the pleasant weather to play outside. One of his bouts of “exploring” the manor turned up an old baseball bat, a mitt, and a couple of softballs. So the siblings took to the outdoors, playing on the muddy greens. Kris and Chara batted the softballs around. Frisk did not join them. She sat under a tree and read a book instead.

“It’s the bottom of the ninth, and the bases are loaded,” Kris narrated, slapping the ball against the mitt. “With the scores tied, it looks like this throw is gonna determine the winner today. Kris prepares one of his legendary pitches!”

He flung the ball at Chara, who wasn’t paying attention. It beaned her in the leg.

“Oww!” she whimpered.

“Whoops! Wake up, Dolly Daydream,” Kris teased.

“I don’t even like baseball,” she complained. “Why can’t we play hide and seek?”

“We played it the other day. I want to do something else. Besides, it was about time we got some fresh air.”

“It’s not like there’s anything wrong with the air inside,” Chara grumbled.

“Yeah, yeah. Are you ready this time?” Kris picked up another softball.

Chara tapped the bat against the grass and then slung it over her shoulder. “Yeah, are you?”

Kris pitched the ball. Chara swung. With a resounding CRACK, the ball sailed up and away…and right into one of the manor’s stained glass windows. That’s right, just like in the cartoons and movies, the window shattered. Chara’s face grew even paler than usual, and Frisk glanced up from her book with a rattled expression. A metallic crashing sound told the kids that the ballistic ball had caused even more damage inside.

And yes, it had. The ball had knocked over not one but two suits of armor in a corridor. The armor was strewn across the floorboards in pieces. The kids had no idea how to reassemble a suit of medieval armor. The broken window was another matter entirely.

“Oh, great job, Chara,” Kris said as the kids surveyed the mess.

Chara’s excuse was that “You pitched it!”

Just then, a grouchy voice downstairs called out, “What’s all that noise? What are you brats up to now?”

“It’s the Zigelbauer!” Kris cried. “Run!”

They fled the room like hunted animals. No matter where they ran, it seemed like the housekeeper’s steps were right behind them. They went up and down stairs, through long hallways, and in any room that seemed like it might shelter them. But they could not lose the Zigelbaeur tailing them. At last they ducked into the spare room. Chara saw her chance and jumped for it.

She wrenched the wardrobe open. “Come on! Hurry!”

“Are you serious?” Kris muttered. At this point, he’d be happy to never see that stupid closet again in his life. Now Chara wouldn’t leave it alone?

Zigelbaeur’s heels clacked on the woodwork in the corridor. With no other place to go, Kris caved and went inside the wardrobe with Frisk and Chara. He almost closed the door, but not quite, because it is a foolish thing to shut oneself up in a wardrobe. Peeking out, he cringed when he saw the doorknob rattling. All three children backed up, jostling each other the whole time.

“Ow! My foot,” Frisk cried.

“Kris! Quit pushing!” whined Chara.

“Move it!” Kris complained.

Suddenly, as though the back panel had given way, the scuffling children stepped out…into the Otherworld. Kris breathed in sharply when he realized that he was not in the spare room any more, but rather in a tranquil forest.

“No way,” he breathed.

“It’s probably just your imagination.” Now it was Frisk’s turn to be the teasing one. She rocked back and forth on her feet with a cheeky little smile.

Chuckling, Kris asked, “I guess it wouldn’t be enough to say I’m sorry, huh?”

“No,” she said, before plucking a bunch of dandelions and whipping them at Kris. “But that might!”

In retaliation, Kris playfully lobbed a ball of mud at Frisk, who expertly dodged it. Pretty soon they were tossing flowers, soft dirt clods, and wads of grass at each other. The forest was chill and a bit gloomy, but that didn’t stop the siblings from having a moment of merriment. Chara did not join in. She looked off into the distance, where the twin hills stood. While she wondered how to convince her siblings to come with her to the Spade’s house, Kris chucked a mud ball at her.

“Ow! Stop it!” she griped, wiping the mud off herself.

“So it _is_ real after all, and you knew it!” Kris accused her. “You little liar!”

“You didn’t believe her either,” was Chara’s weak excuse.

Kris pointed at his sister. “Apologize to Frisk. Say you’re sorry!”

Chara cowed away. “All right, _sorry_. Geez.”

Kris didn’t look impressed by her apology. Frisk seemed to let it slide, though…but not without a snarky comment at Chara’s expense.

“It’s okay,” she said. “Some kids just don’t know when to stop pretending.”

Chara scowled. “Oh, real funny.”

“What should we do now?” Kris wondered aloud. Before Chara could suggest anything that might get them en route to the Spade’s house, he answered his own question: “You know what? I think Frisk should decide. What do you want, kiddo?”

Frisk’s face lit up. “Let’s go visit Mr. Papyrus! He’ll be so excited to meet you all!”

“Then to Mr. Papyrus’s place it is.”

“But it’s so cold out,” Chara complained. She didn’t want to meet Mr. Papyrus. If she couldn’t get her way, then nobody would get to enjoy the Otherworld.

“It won’t be a problem.” Kris returned to the clearing, carrying an armload of coats from the wardrobe. “We’ll wear these. I bet the Professor won’t mind. When you think about, we’re not even taking them out of the wardrobe, really.”

Frisk bundled into her fluffy fur jacket; it was a little too big for her, but she didn’t mind. Kris handed a fusty-looking old man’s coat to Chara, whose face wrinkled up in disgust.

“But that’s a man’s coat!” she said.

Kris didn’t miss a beat. “I know.”

And so, the true adventure in the Otherworld began.


	5. sans.

The air seemed fresh and full of potential as the children began their walk to Mr. Papyrus’s house. Frisk led the way, of course. They looked around at the serene trees, the oddly silent creeks, and the gray flowers amidst the dewy grass. Above them hung the cloudy sky. Where the sun was hiding, nobody could guess. The whole Otherworld seemed to be holding its breath. What was it waiting for?

“…lots and lots of good food,” Frisk chattered as they approached the crag where Mr. Papyrus’s house was. “Did you know his father, W.D. Gaster, was a great scientist? Mr. Papyrus told me about…”

She fell silent and they all stopped in their tracks. The door to Mr. Papyrus’s house had been torn off its hinges and thrown aside. Worried for her friend, Frisk rushed over to the cottage.

“Fri! Hold on,” Kris told her, but she didn’t listen. Not with a troubling situation at hand.

The home looked like a crime scene. A cold draft blew in through the missing door. The log in the fireplace had been tossed onto the floor and stomped on, so a layer of charcoal dust coated everything on the floor. Someone had attacked Mr. Papyrus’s bookshelf and scattered its contents; there were damaged books and loose papers all over the place. The teapot and cups lay smashed on the kitchenette floor.

“Who did this?” Frisk wondered aloud, tearfully. “Who would do something so awful?”

Chara stepped on something that crunched. It was the picture of Papyrus’s father. Someone had scratched it with their claws.

Kris found a notice nailed to a wall. He pulled it off and read it aloud to his sisters.

“The Occupant of his home, the Skeleton known as Papryus, has hereby been placed under Arrest on charges of treasonous behavior, refusal to comply with the law, comforting His Majesty’s enemies, and fraternizing with Humans, etc. Signed Dogberry, captain of the Secret Police. Long live the Spade King.”

He lowered the paper. “Okay. We need to go home, now.”

Suddenly the Otherworld wasn’t a fun magical forest anymore. It was a hostile and dangerous place. And if he wanted to think of himself as the responsible older brother, he had no business bringing his siblings into it.

“But what about Mr. Papyrus?” cried Frisk. “We need to help him.”

“Why? He’s a criminal,” said Chara, shrugging.

“He is NOT a criminal!” It was rare for Frisk to get angry enough to shout, so it gave Kris and Chara quite a surprise. “He’s the nicest Skeleton man I’ve ever met, and he’s good all around. The Spade King can’t get away with doing this to him!”

Chara tried to make her case against Papyrus from a different angle. “Besides, what could we even do? He was arrested just for being with a human.”

“Don’t you guys understand? I’m the human,” Frisk said, sharing the sinking feeling that had settled in as soon as Kris read the notice. “He...someone found out! They knew I visited him. But how?”

Chara shifted from one foot to the other uncomfortably.

“We could call the police,” Frisk suggested in a small voice.

“These are the police.” Kris gestured at the paper in his hands. “Sorry Frisk, but that won’t do any good. We’ll think of something, though. I promise.”

He reasoned it was the least thing he could do. Outside the house, a big black Crow alighted on a nearby branch.

“Psst,” the bird said to them in sotto voice. The children turned to look at the source of the sound.

“Did...did you guys hear that too?” asked Kris. “Did that bird just ‘psst’ us?”

The last time he checked, birds couldn’t make that sound. At least, crows couldn’t. They only want “Kra! Kra! Rah!” as far as he knew. But then again, this was the Otherworld, and the whole woodland teemed with magic. Talking animals weren’t out of the question.

“Psst,” said the Crow again, ruffling their feathers. They hopped back and forth on the branch, as if signaling the kids to follow them.

“Great,” Chara muttered. “That’s a crow. You know you can’t trust crows...they’re bad birds.”

“Shut up, Chara.” Kris was done with listening to her rude and probably false comments. He looked over at the Crow and gestured at himself and his siblings.

“Are you talking to us?” he asked.

“Yes,” the Crow replied. “Please follow me. I know someone who can help you.”

And they took off from the branch, coasting deeper into the woods. Frisk was convinced, and she pursued them. Chara only did it begrudgingly, grumbling about how stupid it was to chase a random bird through the woods. The Crow abruptly swooped up and disappeared into the foliage.

“Here is the spot. I wish things were different,” were their parting words. That left the kids standing a short ways outside of Mr. Papyrus’s house, in an area with heavy undergrowth.

“That was...odd,” Kris remarked. “So, what do we do now?”

The brush rustled aggressively. A short but heavyset shadow seemed to be glide through the shrubbery and weeds. It was hard to tell what direction it was coming from. But it was _not_ merely the wind. The children nervously pulled together. Maybe Chara was right and the Crow _was_ bad, and now it had led them into a trap. Frisk worried about what kind of nasty monster might jump out of the thicket at them.

Then “monster” emerged from the bushes. It was a monster, all right, but it wasn’t scary or even that threatening. It was a short, chubby skeleton man wearing a blue jacket and silly pink bedroom slippers. He had a big, cheeky smile. Frisk looked delighted – so far, skeleton monsters were her favorite people in this world, if Mr. Papyrus had been any indication.

“It’s a...” Chara stammered. “It’s a skeleton.”

“Okay. Okay.” Kris tried to be the responsible older brother. He herded Frisk and Chara behind him, then slowly approached the skeleton with an outstretched hand.

“Here, boy,” he said, clicking his tongue. “Here, boy.”

He edged closer and closer to the skeleton, stretching his arm out as far it would go. His fingers nearly brushed the bridge of the creature’s nose holes, when—

“Stop talking to me like I’m a dog,” the skeleton man complained. He had a deep, goofy voice.

“Guh!” Kris jumped back. Frisk giggled. Nope! Not a trap. Just an awkward introduction. Chara had been wrong...again.

“The name’s Sans. Sans the skeleton.” He stuck his hands in his jacket pockets. He stood with a casual stance, like nothing in the world could bother him. Except clueless teenage boys, maybe. Chara held back, hiding behind Kris.

“Nice to meet you, sir!” Frisk interrupted. “Do you know someone—“

Sans looked past Kris and pointed at her. “Frisk the Human, from Ebbot?”

The smile dropped off her face. “Yes...that’s me...”

“Mm-hmm. Here.” The skeleton man approached her and held out a small white cloth to her. “Got something from Papyrus for you.”

He sounded sad when he mentioned Papyrus.

“My hanky?” Frisk took it. “But I said he could keep it.”

“And he did. ‘Til _they_ got him.” His tone darkened and he looked away. “Papy may be naive, but he’s not stupid. He knows about the _hanky-panky_ going on in this place. Caught wind of the arrest before it actually happened, and he gave the handkerchief to me. He wanted you to have it back.”

Only Sans would make a pun in the middle of explaining how someone got arrested.

“So you know about the Secret Police?” Chara asked.

“Hush-shh-shh!” Sans hissed. “You can’t talk about that out in the open. Anyone could be listening. Further in.”

He gestured for them to follow him, disappearing back into the underbrush. Frisk walked behind him without a second thought, and Kris wasn’t about to let her wander off on her own.

But Chara grabbed his sleeve, forcing him to stop. “Hold on. How do we know we can trust this guy?”

Kris shrugged. “He says he knows about Papyrus. And the Secret Police.”

“He’s a skeleton! He shouldn’t be _saying_ anything!”

“If you have a better idea, I’m ready to hear it.”

Except Chara didn’t have a better idea, so she fell quiet with a _hrrf_ and begrudgingly followed her siblings and the skeleton. Sans took them through a dense part of the forest. It was so dense, in fact, that Kris had to keep shoving branches out of his way or risk getting smacked in the face by them. Frisk, Chara, and Sans were short enough to avoid those hazards. They traveled until dark – or at least, when the sky grew darker than normal. It was always rather overcast in the Otherworld, and rain fell frequently. Sans seemed unperturbed by the rain rolling off him and soaking his sweater. At last, they reached the bank of a wide river, which was frozen despite the non-winter weather. A yellow glow emanated from the windows of a small house made from bricks and logs. It looked very cozy, especially with the smoke rising from the chimney.

“We’re just in time for dinner,” Sans said cheerfully. “Soup is on...Actually, it’s probably pasta again. We eat a lot of pasta here.”

As they approached the house, the door swung open and another skeleton monster emerged. This one was female, though – she had on a pink dress and matching pink bandanna.

“Sans!” she called. “Where have you been? If I find out you were with that goat woman again, I’m going to—“

She broke off her scolding when she saw the three human children following Sans. Instead, she got a huge, excited smile and squealed.

“Mercy me! Oh my goodness gracious! Is it actually happening?”

“You know what this means, right?” Sans motioned at the kids. “I barely believe it myself.”

“Well, of course I know what it means!” she retorted to him, before addressing Frisk and company. “Let’s see if we can get you some food...and some _civilized_ company. Come in! Come in!”

“That’s my mom,” Sans explained as they walked inside the house. “She’s pretty cool, huh?”

Chara was the last to go in. She paused for a moment outside the door, looking across the river. The twin hills now stood an even greater distance away than before.

Sans was suddenly next to her. “Enjoying the scenery?”

He sounded like he knew more than he was letting on, and Chara did not like that. Not one bit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sans's mom Lucida is an original character of Rei (@spiritednug on Tumblr), used in the webcomic The Man Who Speaks in Hands. It's a good comic, you might want to check it out.


	6. High Treason

The house was snug, but not too tight. It wasn’t that neat or tidy, either; laundry had been left in piles, dust collected in some corners, and miscellaneous objects covered the kitchenette counters. Apparently, Sans and his mother were more alike than one would think. They cleared the table, which was overrun with pots, plates, cups, pans, and dishes. By some miracle the skeletons managed to squirrel away the mess, leaving the table clear for dinner. The skeletons and the three kids sat in cute little chairs around the low table. As Sans expected – and promised – the supper consisted of a deep pot of pasta and marinara sauce. While the plates passed around the table, everyone was thinking of the same thing, but nobody wanted to be the one to bring it up. Frisk tried to distract herself from Mr. Papyrus's plight by seeing how much noodle she could twirl around her fork. Chara picked at her food apathetically. Kris finally brought up the matter halfway through dinner.

“Is there anything we can do to help Mr. Papyrus?” he asked.

Sans looked incredibly uncomfortable. “I don't know, all right?”

“Hey, hey. I was just asking –“

“Look, they'll have taken him to the Spade's place by now. Bad news for us. Not many who go past those gates ever come back.”

Sans's mom, whose name was Lucida for the record, noticed everyone's tension and tried to lighten the mood. “Does anyone have room for dessert?”

Frisk sniffled. Lucida patted her on the shoulder.

“But...but there is hope, dear. We have that. Plenty of hope.”

Sans had just taken a big drink of water, which nearly shot out of his nose holes in a spit take. “Ah yeah! There's a lot more than hope! Asgore is on the move. I can feel it.”

At the mention of the name “Asgore,” a curious feeling came over all three children. They each sat up straighter in their seats. Kris felt very adventurous, like a new world of opportunity had unfolded itself for him. To Frisk, it was like waking up one morning and realizing that it was the beginning of summer or Christmas break. But to Chara, the name “Asgore” gave her a sensation of strange dread.

“Who...who is Asgore?” she asked.

“Ba ha ha ha ha!” Sans guffawed. “Who's Asgore? Ah, kiddo, you're killing me.”

He paused when he realized his mom was giving him an unamused look.

“...What? You don't know who Asgore is?”

“We _are_ rather new here,” Kris said with a confused sort of shrug. “So...who is he?”

“He's only the king of all of the Otherworld!” Sans proclaimed. “The _true_ king! Nobody is getting his _goat_ once he's around.”

Sans continued explaining who Asgore was while Kris and Frisk listened intently. They didn't notice as Chara's expression turned to one of disgust. While news of this Asgore person filled up her siblings with hope, it only gave her a deep sour feeling.

“...Asgore will flush out that Spade King for good,” Sans went on. “And you'll help him do it.”

Kris and Frisk did a double take. “ _We're_ going to help him?”

Sans stuck his hands in his pockets cheerfully. “That's what I said.”

“Ooh, tell them about the prophecy,” Lucida suggested.

“Right. I-I know it sounds kind of cliché, but there is one. It goes like this:

_When Adam’s flesh and Adam’s bone_

_Sit at the Great Castle in throne,_

_The evil time will be over and done.”_

“You know, that doesn’t really rhyme,” Kris pointed out.

“Yeah, yeah, I know it doesn’t,” Sans replied, waving his hand. “Poetry isn’t my forte. Puns are. But you’re kinda missing the point!”

“It has long been foretold that three human children – a Son of Adam and two Daughters of Eve – will defeat the Spade King, free the realm from his dark influence, and restore peace to the Otherworld.” Lucida’s voice nearly trembled with excitement.

“And you think we're these three children?” Kris inquired.

“Well, I hope so,” Sans replied. “Would be a disappointment to Asgore if you weren't. He's got your whole army outfitted for you at the Light Fountain.”

“Army!” Kris exclaimed.

“But...but Mom sent us away to protect us from a war,” Frisk said. The idea of fighting frightened her very much. Not without reason – she was just a little girl, and the war her family had fled from was a brutal one. As far as she knew, fighting for the Otherworld might involve falling bombs and poison gas and soldiers in the streets.

“I'm sorry, Mr. Sans,” Kris said, “but I think you've got the wrong heroes. My sisters and I aren't warriors! We're from Alamogordo.”

Sans and Lucida looked baffled. “Where in the Otherworld is that?”

“Uh, nowhere in this world. From the, uh...other other world. Just think of it as our hometown.”

“Oh, okay. Anyway...you can't leave! We need you.”

“He's right.” As frightened as Frisk was about the prospect of encountering war, she couldn't leave a friend behind. Not Mr. Papyrus, not the skeletons, not anyone. “We have to stay and help.”

Kris put on a firm voice. “Frisk, this isn't our fight. We would be in over our heads.”

“Oh, please do not leave!” Lucida implored them.

“Thank you for everything. I mean it. But we really have to go.” Kris stood up and pushed in his chair. “Frisk? Chara?”

Frisk was still sitting at the table, but Chara’s seat was empty. She wasn’t in it.

“Chara?” Kris asked, looking around in confusion.

She wasn’t _anywhere_ in the house. Somehow, she’d snuck out while the others were talking.

“I’m gonna kill her,” he said, but of course he didn’t really mean it. That didn’t mean he wasn’t angry, though.

“You may not have to,” Sans said in a strange, ominous voice. “Has your sister been to the Otherworld before?”

[(|)]

Chara had not liked the skeletons’ house at all. She didn’t like the skeletons very much either. She’d left her coat behind at their house, too proud to wear that ugly thing a minute longer. But as she walked through that silent, dark forest, she began to regret that decision. The air in the Otherworld grew chill at night, enough so that she could almost see her breath. She shuffled through an ankle-deep layer of leaf litter. The forest seemed so big and scary at night, even to someone as bold as her. Worried about getting lost, she made sure the twin peaks of those hills were in sight at all times. The Spade King’s house was right in the middle of those hills, she told herself, and it was just a little while longer before she reached it. To keep her mind off how cold she was, Chara thought about other things – specifically, what her plans as a Princess would be.

“Once I become princess of the Dark World,” she said, “the first thing I will do is have these woods cleared out. Not entirely, though, but enough to have some decent roads built. There will be a nice, smooth road, too. And some cars...”

After a while, the trick worked, and soon Chara thought nothing of the cold. Instead, her mind was filled with a fantasy of what the Otherworld would look under her rule. She calculated an appropriate allowance for the Princess, planned the layout of the palace she would have built, and wondered if the Spade King would let her eat chocolate for breakfast. She was putting the finishing touches on her various anti-skeleton policies when she came to the courtyard of a massive black castle.

It squatted between the hills like a fat toad, with the moonlight bouncing off it in patches of blue. Two towers capped with purple spires rose up out of the main building. The front doors resembled a toothy grin, with a stained glass window in the shape of a spade looking out over them. In front of it all lay a spacious courtyard rimmed with a low stone wall.

The iron courtyard gates hung open. Chara had no trouble getting inside. It was a spacious garden with deep blue grass, no trees, and very few shrubs. Morose black flowers lined the stone pathway. But the thing that immediately drew Chara’s attention was the statues.

There must have been a hundred, maybe more, of perfect stone statues littered about the courtyard. They depicted many different creatures. Some were familiar – there were rabbits, warthogs, gorillas, kangaroos. The courtyard held a zoo’s worth of animal statues. Others were fantastical beings of whom Chara had only read in stories – gryphons, unicorns, dwarves, and others. But then again, this was the Otherworld (the Dark World, to some), and it seemed anything was possible here.

At first Chara looked at the statues with interest, but the courtyard was so big and cold and silent, and the motionless stone figures so numerous, that it quickly became unnerving. What she could not get over was the sheer realism. Each statue was made with incredible detail and captured in dynamic poses. They looked as though someone had instantly frozen a creature in place.

Chara stepped on something that crunched. Looking down, she saw a dead, cold fire-pit full of charcoal. A mischievous smile crept across her face as she figured out a way to lighten her mood and chase away her fright. She picked up a chunk of charcoal and approached the nearest statue, an angry goat. She giggled to herself as she doodled a mustache on its upper lip and a pair of tacky glasses over its eyes. Satisfied with the silly-looking goat, she dropped the charcoal on the ground and hurried to the castle’s great pair of double doors. There was just one last statue to walk past – a brawny, lupine dog laying sprawled across the stairs.

Except it wasn’t a statue. As soon as Chara stepped over it, the dog sprung to life. With a snarl, it knocked her down and kept her pinned with its heavy paws. The animal slicked back its lips, revealing nasty pointed teeth. Its hot, stinky breath blew into her face.

“Speak, human!” the dog demanded. “Or I’ll make sure you never will.”

“I-I-I-” she stammered. “I’m, um, Chara!”

“I don’t care,” the beast retorted. “What do you want? You have five seconds to tell me, before I make a snack of your throat-flesh—“

“I’m with the Spade King!” she blurted. “He said to meet me here. I’m a Daughter of Eve!”

The angry dog’s expression softened. “Ah. I see.”

He got off of Chara, allowing her to stand up. But he didn’t leave her alone. He nudged her in the back with his muzzle, goading her to go towards the double doors. If she had second thoughts and wanted to leave, now was too late.

“I’m so sorry, dear friend of the Spade King,” he said without a lick of sincerity. “Or maybe...not so dear.” He made a nodding motion for her to follow. He took her into the castle and up a set of steep stairs. Then they came upon a cavernous room built of black marble. It was lit only by crystals growing out of the walls, which glowed blue. In the midst of it all sat a lovely throne. It was carved from ivory and silver, and emblems of the four card suits were embossed into it and crusted with jewels.

“Wait here,” the dog instructed. He departed, leaving Chara alone in the huge, empty room.

[(|)]

“I don't believe it,” Kris gasped as he, Frisk, and the skeletons stood at the top of a knoll, observing the Spade King's castle from afar. They watched helplessly as Chara slipped through the gates and entered that terrible palace, seemingly unaware of the evil vibes that emanated from it.

She had betrayed them.

“Chara!” Frisk screamed.

“Hush!” Lucida told her. “They will hear you!”

Kris ran at the castle. Yes, Chara was a terrible brat, but he didn't want her anywhere near the Spade. He was too dangerous. Sans nearly tackled him to the ground, shouting “NO!”

Kris tried kicking him away. “Get off! Let go of me! What are you doing?”

“Are you out of your mind? You can't just stroll up to his door. You'd be walking straight into a trap!”

“I can't just let her leave,” Kris protested.

“She's our sister!” Frisk added. “We can't let her do this.”

“I said, it's a trap. The Spade is using her as a lure for you two! He wants all three of you. To stop the prophecy from coming true. To _kill_ you!”

A startled silence came over them. Any sense of this being a fun adventure was gone in that moment. At dinner, Kris had said that they would be in over their heads, and now he witnessed it coming true before his very eyes. He exhaled tensely. In his anger and fear he did something very nasty. He took out his emotions on Frisk.

“This is your fault!” he snapped at her. “You just couldn't leave that wardrobe alone, this was your stupid idea, and now look! We're _stuck_ here with a bad guy who wants to kill us, and Chara is already going straight for him!”

That outburst of his triggered the expected results. Frisk's episode of crying when the others didn't believe her was nothing compared to this one. She cried so hard she started hiccuping, her nose ran, and she was so upset she couldn't get a word in besides—

“Stop it!”

“We never should have come here, and I never should have listened to you! _I'm_ the oldest one. I'm supposed to be the one calling the shots!”

“I said _stop it_!” she sobbed. “It's not gonna help Chara!”

“She's right,” Lucida said. She'd rushed in to comfort Frisk and shield her from Kris's verbal onslaught.

“You want to help Chara?” Sans asked him. “Stop upsetting Frisk, for a start. Only Asgore can help your sister now.”

Kris had few, if any, other options at this point. “Then take us to him.”

[(|)]

As frightening as the dog was, Chara thought that being by herself in this creepy hall may have been worse. It was stiflingly quiet, and not the good restful kind either. It was a hollow silence, like the kind before something terrifying made itself known. Once again, Chara put her ill-at-ease at bay by imagining herself as a Princess of the Dark World. She nestled herself in the Spade King's throne. It was way too big for her, of course – the back of it rose up four feet taller than her own head. It was far too tall for her even when she was standing up. Nevertheless, Chara envisioned herself ruling from it one day, while Frisk served her chocolate from a tray and Kris apologized for being such an awful older brother.

Suddenly a huge paw rested itself on the back of the chair, and a huge shadow loomed over Chara. She was not alone in the hall anymore.

“Quite nice, isn't it?” rasped the Spade King. “Do you like it?”

“Er...yes, sir.” Chara blushed. The Spade probably did not like it when other people sat in his throne. She meekly got up from the chair and backed away. The Spade reclined himself in it, in her place. He ran his paw along the blade of that spade-on-a-chain which came out of his second mouth.

“I thought you might,” he said casually. “Chara, I have a question for you. A few, actually. Is your sister deaf?”

“Uh....No...” Chara had no idea where he was going with these strange questions. Why would it matter to him if Frisk was deaf? While it was true that Frisk was rather nearsighted and might be in need of glasses soon, she could hear just fine.

“And your brother. Is he...unintelligent?”

“Well, I think so,” Chara said carelessly. “But Mom says—“

“Then how DARE you come here alone!” the Spade roared, rising from his seat and towering over her. The color drained from Chara's face. In that moment, the bad feeling she'd had about him was confirmed. Even if she still didn't want to admit it, even now.

“Chara, I asked so little of you,” he went on, stepping closer. “All you had to do was bring your family here. You couldn't even do that? Useless, stupid—“

He pointed the tip of the spade at her, as though poising to strike. Chara's hands flung up defensively.

“Wait!” she cried. “I-I brought them halfway! They're at the house with the skeletons, by the river.”

He paused and lowered the weapon. The furious expression of his changed to one of cold confidence – and somehow, that was even worse. Chara really should not have said where her siblings were. But it was too late – the words were out there, and the villain she'd allied herself to would act on them.

“Hmm,” he said, nearly purring. “I suppose you're not completely useless, then.

Chara laughed nervously. “I, uh, do you think I could have some more of that chocolate? You know, as a reward for helping?”

She should have just shut up. The Spade King huffed, then glanced over at Jevil.

“The little _Princess_ is hungry,” he said to his servant. Jevil's strange little grin widened to a grotesque, too unnaturally broad smile. It showed all his nasty yellow teeth. He approached Chara.

“This way, way,” he said in an almost singsong voice, “for your _yum-yums_.”

The tip of Jevil's hooked knife poked Chara in the back. She breathed in sharply. Meanwhile, the Spade called for someone called Dogberry. The Captain of the Secret Police returned, that same wolfish dog who'd threatened Chara. His fur was dirty and stood on end.

“Yes, my lord,” said Dogberry as he gazed up at his commander.

“You know what to do.”

Dogberry tipped his head back and let out a hoarse howl. The tone was harsh as it echoed in the cavernous throne room. His call beckoned forth even more threatening dogs, as well as strange snake-like monsters that looked as though they were made of diamond. They crawled out of every nook and cranny in the walls. They pulled into pack formation, ready to go out on the hunt. And tonight's quarry was Chara's siblings.


	7. An Unlikely Ally

“Hurry, Mama! They’re attackin’ the house!” Sans screamed, charging in. Kris and Frisk scuttled in after him. Their hearts raced.

“Oh! Okay!” Lucida immediately went into a flurry of activity. She rushed around the room, opening cabinets and grabbing random things before wrapping them up in cloth.

“What are you doing?” It didn’t matter who asked her that, because it was what basically everyone was thinking.

“I’m packing, of course.” Lucida somewhat forced a bundle into Frisk’s hands. “There’s no telling how long we may be traveling, and Sans gets _pretty cranky_ when he’s hungry.”

“I’m cranky _now_!”

While Kris and Sans urged them to go already, Frisk helped Lucida pack even more things into cloth sacks. This, in turn, sparked an argument. Meanwhile, there was already a cacophony of barking outside. Dogberry and his Secret Police were fast, and they already knew the location of the skeletons’ house. The Spade had ordered them to keep tabs on it ever since Papyrus was arrested.

“Do you think we should bring jam?” Frisk wondered aloud.

“Only if the Spade King serves toast!” Kris retorted.

Something banged on the windows; it was the dogs and the snake monsters, trying to force them open. They also scratched at the walls and attacked the dirt, trying to dig their way in. Dogberry observed them, growling impatiently.

“Hurry up,” he said. “Do _not_ let them get away.”

At last, one of the dogs jumped up and beat at the window with its large paws. The paneling gave way, and the window fell inside the house. It shattered on the floor. The dogs and snake monsters slipped and slithered inside. Barking and hissing, they paced around the house...which was empty. No skeleton monsters, and no human children.

“I can’t get a scent!” one dog complained. Lucida had left a pan of apples and cinnamon simmering on the stovetop; its overpowering smell covered up any left by the children.

In anger, Dogberry swatted a broom leaning against the wall with his paw. It tipped over and struck a coffee pot, which then fell off the counter and knocked aside a supposedly innocent piece of wood paneling. Dogberry’s accidental Rube Goldberg contraption revealed a secret opening in the floor, which had a ladder leading down into the darkness.

The wolfish dog grinned. “Looks like the hunt continues, boys.”

[(|)]

Kris held a torch as he, Frisk, and the skeletons hurried through the tunnel. Sans yammered on and on about how he’d spent weeks digging it out.

“...and Papy helped me dig it out, even if he could barely fit in it. He’s too darn tall. Anyway, it lets out near Toriel’s house—“

“So THAT’S where it actually goes?” Lucida sounded scandalized. “I should have known. You are a _sneaky_ boy!”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Sans said dismissively. It would have been a little funny if they weren’t fleeing for their lives at the moment. The little bit of warmth that the moment provided was immediately frozen by an awful sound.

Growling, and paws scrabbling on dirt.

“They’re in the tunnel!” Frisk panicked.

They scrambled through the dirt tunnel, with Kris’s torch barely illuminating anything. It wasn’t long at all before it seemed as though they were going in circles. Even Sans didn’t seem to know where he was going.

“You should have brought a map!” Lucida nagged.

“There wasn’t room next to the jam!” Sans grouched. He jumped up and punched a wooden trapdoor overhead. It swung open, revealing a wedge of blue moonlight. He climbed through the hole, slippers scrabbling in the dirt, and helped Lucida and the humans through. Lucida and Kris rolled a nearby barrel over the hole to barricade it. Frisk stumbled backwards, tripped over some small objects on the ground, and fell down.

“Huh?” she grunted. The things she’d tripped over were a bunch of small stone animals – mice, squirrels, birds, and a few frogs. But the one that Sans was concerned with the most was a statue of a goat woman, crouched in fear. She held up her hands as if trying to protect herself from a blow. None of the children understood what these statues were doing here or why the skeletons seemed so distraught over them.

“I’m so, so sorry,” Lucida comforted her son, pulling him close.

“They...they got Tori,” Sans mumbled, sounding dangerously close to tears.

“Who is Tori?” Frisk asked. “What’s with all these statues?”

“They weren’t always taken for _granite_ like this,” Sans punned sadly. “Toriel and these little guys here, they were once living creatures. But then the Spade King got them, and he...he turned them into stone. Now they can’t do anything but sit here in the elements, ‘til the moss creeps up on them and the stone crumbles away.”

The humans fell silent. They weren’t sure what to say that might comfort Sans. After all, what were you supposed to say to someone whose best friend had been turned to stone? It was like talking to someone whose friend had died, but it also _wasn’t_ like that at the same time. The whole ordeal was confusing.

“It’s not fair, kids. Toriel was a great friend. Would sit and listen to my bad jokes for hours. There isn’t a mean bone in her body; she never meant anyone harm. It’s just not right.”

“We’re sorry, Mr. Sans,” Frisk said, barely louder than a whisper. She sniffled.

“It’s not right,” Sans repeated.

“But it is what happens to those who mess with the Spade King,” someone behind them declared. The voice was high-pitched and childish, but it was also sudden, so it startled them. Turning around, they saw an odd monster sitting on a child’s bicycle atop the knoll. The creature was small, with a round furry body and a teardrop-shaped head. His face, if he had one, was mostly hidden behind a spade-shaped black marking. All that was visible was his black button nose and doglike mouth, out of which hung a little blue tongue.

“Oh my gosh, he is so cute,” Frisk said. Sans’s reaction was considerably less cheerful.

“You take another step, traitor, and I’ll crush you into dust!” he threatened. He started to stomp towards the newcomer and had to be held back by Lucida.

“Woah!” exclaimed the monster. “Take it easy, buddy. I’m one of the good guys.” He dismounted his bicycle and tried to slide down the hill. He wasn’t very graceful and ended up rolling down it instead.

“Yeah?” Sans scoffed. “You look exactly like the big bad guy himself.”

“I can’t help that he’s my dad,” the small monster whined. “Not my fault. I don’t even like him, he’s a bad dad.”

“Who are you?” Frisk asked.

“I’m Lancer, and I’m the bad guy!” he announced. “I mean, um, good guy now, I guess.”

“We can’t trust this guy. He looks like nothing but trouble in _spades,”_ Sans said quietly to the kids.

Lancer heard him anyway. “Nuh-uh! You can trust me, and I’ll prove it to you. I’m going to take out my dad’s Secret Police. Watch me!”

“Let’s give him a chance,” Lucida suggested, a hand on Sans’s shoulder. He just rolled his eye sockets.

“We don’t have much time for anything else,” Kris said. “At this point, I’m willing to try anything. Hey kid, show us what you have in mind.”

[(|)]

Lancer positioned himself on his bicycle in the clearing while the others took to their hiding-places. Kris, Frisk, and Lucida climbed up a tree and hid in the boughs, while the less agile Sans had to shelter in a hollowed out tree stump. Just in time, too, for no sooner had they taken their places than the door to the tunnel flung open, throwing the barrel aside. Dogs flooded into the clearing, sniffing and growling.

Right away they noticed Lancer on his bike and started to circle him. Judging by the leader’s instant aggression, Kris sensed that the two had some history. Maybe there _was_ some truth to Lancer’s claims that he’d switched sides.

“Heya, guys!” Lancer said breezily. “What’s up? In pack formation tonight, I see. Are you looking for something?”

“Don’t patronize me!” snarled Dogberry, brutishly taking charge as usual. “I know you’re a traitor. We heard about some humans around here. Start talking, you brat.”

“Ha-ha...humans? In the Dark World? Sounds like crazy talk to me.” Lancer’s carefree facade quickly began to deteriorate. Without warning, one of the snakes grabbed his neck in their teeth and pulled him off the bike. Hurt, he let out a puppy-like yelp. Kris had to cover Frisk’s mouth with his hand to keep her from crying out.

“Your reward is your life,” said the leader dog. “It’s not much...but still. Where are the humans?”

Lancer fell quiet for an agonizing moment, shivering in his captor’s grip. Up in the tree, Kris and Frisk held their breath in fear. There was no telling what the frightened, cornered child might do now. They had only met him just a few minutes ago – just how strong was his newfound loyalty to the “good guys?” Would he sell them out just to protect himself?

“Waterfall,” Lancer spit out. “They were fleeing towards Waterfall.”

The snake holding him roughly tossed him aside. He landed with another yelp of pain. Dogberry and his goons banded together into their pack formation again and took off, ostensibly to the place called Waterfall. Lancer lay there in the leaf litter like a half-empty flour sack. The children and the skeleton monsters vacated their hiding places from the moment they were sure the dogs were out of earshot. Lucida and Frisk were the first ones at Lancer’s side.

“Is he okay?” Frisk panicked. “What if that killed him?”

Lancer coughed weakly and sat up. “See? Told you I’d get rid of them.”

“Are you hurt?” Lucida asked him.

“A little,” he admitted. “I wanna say their bark was worse than their bite.”

He looked at Sans for approval. The skeleton monster nodded with a slight smile.

“Ha, nice pun, kid. I shouldn’t have doubted you.”

[(|)]

Presently they had a fire built under the shelter of an overhanging crag. Frisk nestled herself in the warm folds of her coat. Kris absentmindedly peeled the bark off a piece of firewood. Lucida occupied herself tending to Lancer’s wound.

“Owwie!” the kid whined.

“Stop squirming,” she told him as she dabbed at his neck with a cloth. “You’re worse than Sans on bath day.”

“Worst day of the year,” Sans said dramatically. Frisk giggled.

“You were there before us,” Lucida said to Lancer. “What happened? Why were those animals...you know...”

She didn’t want to mention them being turned to stone.

“They helped Papyrus escape,” Lancer explained. “At least, they _tried_ to. My dad got them. I had to run away or else I’d get in trouble. Sorry, man.”

Sans looked gloomy and tossed a twig into the fire.

“We’re sorry about what happened to Toriel,” Frisk spoke up, even though she didn’t even know Toriel. “Gosh, I wish there was something we could do about _them_ , too.”

“Now I _really_ gotta look after you kids,” Sans spoke up after falling quiet for a moment. “Tori told me that if humans ever came to the Otherworld, she would do what she could to protect them. So I’ve got to stay with you and help you find your sister. It’s what Tori would want me to do.”

Frisk abruptly hugged him. “Thank you!”

“Oh, geez. We got a hugger.”

Lancer abruptly stood up. “I gotta go. See you later.”

“You’re leaving?” Kris asked. “To where?”

“But that’s not safe!” Frisk protested. She had just made friends with the weird little dog monster, but he was leaving already? She hated saying goodbye as soon as she said hello.

“I’ll be fine. I’m going to Asgore’s camp,” Lancer went on. “It’s been cool getting to know you punk-a-roos, but duty calls, you know. Duty to the good guys, this time. I’m not taking orders from my dad anymore. Asgore asked me – _me_! – to help him gather his followers.”

“You’ve met Asgore?” Kris asked.

“My word!” Lucida squeaked in excitement. “Ooh, what’s he _like_?”

Lancer shared her giddiness. “Like everything we’ve heard!”

Though they weren’t quite sure why, a warm and happy feeling ran through Frisk and Kris.

“See you later, my King and Queen.” He gave them a little bow, making the children wonder why he’d referred to them as royals. Even as they found out more about the Otherworld, still more questions got thrown their way.

Lancer departed from them, talking to himself about how he needed to find his bike. Kris turned to the skeletons.

“You’re still expecting us to fight the Spade?” he asked.

Lucida shrugged. “Well, erm...yes, all being considered—“

“There’s a prophecy about it and everything, I don’t know why you keep saying no.” Sans shrugged. “I don’t like being the crazy guy who’s always going on about DA PROPHECY, but we _do_ need your help.”

Frisk and Kris huddled next to each other, with Frisk leaning on her older brother. The firelight gleamed off them.

“We just want our sister back.”


	8. Christmas in the Summer

There was an appalling lack of chocolate in the Spade King’s dungeon, of course. Chara sat on the floor against the cold wall – she felt profoundly empty inside. Around her ankles were iron shackles with heavy chains, which bolted to the floor. Next to her lay a slab of wood with a cup and a pathetic mound of bread. It was the “chocolate for the little Princess. Haw! Haw!” as Jevil had put it. As though a bite or two of that bread might settle the deep unease within her, Chara picked it up and dared a nibble. It was as hard as a rock and almost as flavorful. She spit it out, gagging, and tried to wash out its coppery taste with the cup of water. Too bad the water was frozen solid. She let it fall to the floor with a clatter and resumed huddling against the wall.

“If—if you’re not going to eat that,” said a weak voice, “may I? Please?”

Chara looked up. Behind an iron fence divider languished the Spade King’s other prisoner. They were tall and lanky skeleton man who looked very sad and lonely. His red scarf hung around his shoulders in tatters. Like Chara, he was also chained by the ankles. Chara got the sinking suspicion that this skeleton man was Frisk’s friend, the one she called—

“Mr. Papyrus?” she asked. She scooted across the floor as best as she could – hard to do in heavy chains. She held out the chunk of bread to him, and he took it. He didn’t seem to mind how hard and stale it was.

“Once upon a time,” he said quietly. “Now, I’m not so sure. You must be Frisk’s sister.”

Chara tipped her head to the side – how could he know, he’d never met her. “How did you figure that out?”

“You’ve got the same nose.” Papyrus tapped his nose holes with his bony finger. “I never forget a nose.”

“Oh.” Being reminded of Frisk only made her think about how the Spade had sent the Secret Police after her siblings. Who knew what happened to them, and what’s worse, _she_ had sort of helped it. If she hadn’t fallen for the Spade’s tricks, they would never have been in this mess. She screwed them over, like a complete selfish jerk.

“Is she safe?” Mr. Papyrus spoke up. “Frisk. Is she all right?”

“I...I don’t know.” Chara slumped down. “Mr. Papyrus, if you’ve done something very wrong, but you’re really sorry about it, and you could go back and change things...well, would you do it? Do you think anyone can go back and do the right thing?”

He met gazes with her for a moment. Chara had no way of knowing it, but her question reminded him of his own mistake – that time when he almost handed over Frisk, his friend, to the Spade King. He thought about it for a moment.

“I would let them know I’m very sorry, and I would do my best to put things right,” he said. “I think anyone can change for the better. I want to believe that deep down, we’re all good. Sans always said I was naive for thinking that. But it’s what keeps me going.”

There was a thunder of footsteps upstairs. Chara and Papyrus quickly scuttled back to their positions. They did it just in time, too, for no sooner had they done that then the prison gates blasted open. The Spade stormed into the dungeon, tailed by a hideous ogre-like thing wielding an axe. Chara cowered in his shadow. Hatred radiated off him. Papyrus might have been wrong about _him_ having good deep down inside.

The Spade grabbed Chara by the front of her shirt and lifted her right off the ground. “Where are they, you brat?”

“Uhh!” Chara yelped.

“My dogs _tore_ that house apart, board by board, but your little _family_ was nowhere to be found. So! WHERE ARE THEY?” His fangs were inches away from her face.

“I don’t know!” Chara cried. She’d never been so frightened in her life. If any little bit of her thought that the Spade _might_ be nice to her, she was cured of it now. The Spade growled and dropped her to the floor. It hurt when she hit the hard stone.

“Then you’ve outlived your usefulness.” He pointed his spade-blade at her.

“Wait-wait!” Chara said in one last-ditch effort to avoid his wrath. “The skeletons, they said something about Asgore.”

The Spade’s expression turned to one of disgust and horror, which he quickly masked with his all-too-familiar rage. “ _Asgore!_ Where!”

“Ha-ha, your majesty,” Papyrus stammered with a nervous grin, “she can’t be expected to know for sure. After all, she is very new here, and—“

“Shut up, bone bag!” the Spade snapped at him. The ogre thing whacked him with the butt end of the axe handle, nearly cracking his skull.

“I will ask you one more time, child of man. Where is Asgore?”

“I don’t know,” Chara whimpered. “I left before they finished talking. I wanted to see you!” A frightened smile flickered across her face.

“Guard,” growled the Spade to the ogre, who bowed. “Release the skeleton.”

The ogre huffed and went over to Papyrus. The gross creature raised its axe. Papyrus winced, bracing himself for whatever this brute was about to do. The ogre sent the axe crashing down on the skeleton man’s shackles, and again, and again. With each blow to the metal, Papyrus yelped and Chara cringed. At last, the metal lay in shards around him, and the ogre dragged the skeleton’s quivering form to the Spade King’s feet.

“Do you know why you’re here, skeleton?” the Spade asked, looking down his nose at him.

Mr. Papyrus put on the best resolute face that he could. “Yes. It’s because I believe in a free Otherworld – because I still support the true king. Ha...ha...you know it, don’t you? Your power is weakening. Even now.”

He expected another outburst of fury from the evil king. Instead, the Spade remained stone-faced.

“No. You are here because _she_ – “ He directed his spade-blade at Chara, who looked quite pitiful “ – ratted you out. For sweeties. That chocolate was rather tasty, wasn’t it, my dear Chara?”

Papyrus glanced over at Chara with a crushed expression. She cringed and looked away. Now all those careless comments about her siblings and what they were doing had come back to haunt her. Oh, what a fool she had been, to trust the evil Spade! She had gone astray, had betrayed her own family and their new friends.

The Spade gestured callously at Mr. Papyrus. “Take him upstairs.”

The ogre grabbed Papyrus by the shoulders and began to drag him out of the prison. The skeleton glared at Chara, betrayed and hurt by her. She curled into a fetal position and tried not to cry. Perhaps not all of her tears had been shed after all.

“Tell Jevil to ready the sleigh. Chara misses her family.”

[(|)]

Having escaped the Secret Police (or the Royal Guard, or some things Sans called them that are not appropriate to print here) for the time being, the children and the skeleton family set out for Asgore’s camp. They took a short rest before beginning their trek. As they had no means of transportation besides their feet, it wasn’t until the peachy dawn of a new day that they made much progress at all. They paused atop a rock crag overlooking a massive frozen river. It was the same river along which the skeleton family lived; now it seemed even bigger than before. The silver ice gleamed in the morning sun.

“What an _ice_ day for crossing a river,” Sans joked, prompting unamused groans from the others. “All we need to do is to get on the other side. Asgore’s camp isn’t far from there.”

Kris exhaled – Sans’s advice was easier said than done. “It’s so far.”

“Well, it’s the world, dear,” Lucida said with a chuckle. “Did you expect it to be small?”

“Maybe a little smaller.” Sure, he had accepted that this was another world, but the vastness of it was still hard for him to process. The wilderness landscape – all the trees and mountains and valleys – seemed to stretch on for a million miles in any direction. But now as deep into this adventure as they were, they would all have to soldier on.

“Come on, everyone,” he said, signaling. “Let’s go.”

[(|)]

Jevil’s hooked blade poked into Chara’s back. The nasty little man had goaded her out of the jail and up what seemed like hundreds of staircases. This brought them out of the castle’s bowels and into the courtyard. Once again, dozens upon dozens of stone statues leered back at Chara.

And there was a new one.

It was a skeleton man – tall and thin, with a top-heavy frame and a scarf. Mr. Papyrus was frozen mid-scream as he reached out in vain to shield himself. He’d been turned to stone.

Chara felt her stomach drop and felt even colder than before. Shuddering, she lifted her gaze to see the Spade King reclining against his sledge. The sock horses snorted and beat at the ground with their hoofs.

“When you’re ready, Daughter of Eve.”

Jevil shoved Chara into the slege, wedged in by the Spade King’s feet. With a snap of the reins, the sleigh charged out of the courtyard at a feverish speed and raced across the countryside. The Spade King had begun to personally hunt for Chara’s siblings. He glanced down wordlessly at his prisoner.

[(|)]

Midday found Kris, Frisk, Lucida, and Sans well into their journey over the river. On, on they trudged across the expanse of ice. In the clear sunlight, it glowed so bright and white that it was nearly blinding. Kris and Frisk lagged behind the skeletons, who weren’t so patient today. Sans constantly looked over at them and goaded them to keep up. It was funny at first, but now it was getting annoying.

Kris hoisted his sister on his shoulders for a piggy-back ride. “If he tells us to hurry up one more time, I’m going to turn him into a small bowl of bone broth.”

“Come _on_!” Sans shouted, right on cue.

“He is getting kind of bossy,” Frisk agreed.

“No! Behind you!” Lucida cried. Instead of their usually silly smiles, both skeletons wore a look of fear. The kids turned to see something kicking up snow as it charged towards them. Kris set down Frisk and held her hand instead, out of instinct to protect the small and meek. The two humans ran as fast as they could, trying to keep up with Sans and Lucida as they fled. They felt so vulnerable, so exposed on the wide open river with an enemy fast approaching. The pounding of hooves on ice was ever-present behind them. It seemed as though the faster they ran, the closer their pursuer drew. The party veered towards the woods abutting the river, hoping that it would give them shelter. Eventually it did, for they found a ditch with a berry bush thicket serving as an overhang. The four of them dove inside without even making sure it was big enough to hold them all. And it barely had that capacity, either. They crushed uncomfortably close together in the ditch. Frisk breathed down Kris’s neck, Lucida’s ribs poked into Kris’s back, and Sans wouldn’t settle down. He kept trying to climb over the others, until his mother grabbed him by the back of his jacket and held him in place.

Kris could barely hear anything over the others’ nervous breathing and the thudding of his own heart. It hammered in his ears. The moments of tense silence were short, but they felt like hours. Nobody dared say a word. Kris feared that the noise of his panicked heartbeat would somehow be loud enough to give away their hiding-place. They all froze up even more – if that was even possible – when they heard feet crunching on the ground above. A shadow of a tall, broad figure passed over an overturned birch log nearby. Kris clutched at the nearest person – Frisk in this instance – out of instinct. The shadow disappeared, but not the fear. Sans stirred, as though he was listening for something.

“I don’t think they left,” he whispered.

Kris asked, “Should—should we go and look?” He was only aware of the words as soon as they left his mouth.

“You stay here. You’re no use to the Otherworld dead.” Sans started to crawl out of the ditch. Lucida grabbed his ankle, holding him back.

“But neither are you,” she said.

“Thank you, mama.” He gripped her hand for reassurance, then climbed out into the open. The others saw his chunky shadow appear on the log, then disappear. They heard shuffling footsteps, shrubbery rustling, and then silence. They all held their breath without even realizing it. Kris feared that the Spade King had killed Sans as soon as he stepped outside—

“Hey!” Sans suddenly popped into view again, hanging upside down. It startled everyone, but nobody more than Frisk, who screamed.

“It’s not the Spade,” the skeleton man went on. “I hope you’ve all been good, ‘cause there’s someone here to see ya!”

Confused, but relieved that the evil king hadn’t caught up to them, the others emerged from their hiding-place. Kris led the way, with Lucida and Frisk close behind.

At the cusp of the hill stood a person whom they had not met in person before, yet still instantly recognized. He looked just a bit different from what they expected, though. In this world, Santa Claus was Santa Paws – a mountain of a husky dog who stood on two feet and wore a red robe trimmed with gold fur. He had a ruff of fur around his neck that looked like a big beard. Parked behind him was a red and green sleigh pulled by elk wearing bell harnesses.

He greeted them with a hearty laugh and a “Hello!”

“Merry Christmas, sir,” Frisk said, stepping forward. She wondered if he knew about the letter she had started writing to him, even though it was the middle of July back home.

“At last, I can finally say that it is indeed,” Santa Paws replied. “Long has the Spade King’s wicked magic sealed me out of his place. But at last, his power has begun to weaken.”

Sans and Lucida looked at each other joyfully. They hugged close and listened.

“We’re sorry for hiding from you, sir.” Kris looked a little sheepish.

“I understand, my son...perhaps I should have chosen a different method of approaching you. In my defense, however, I have been driving one of these for far longer than the Spade.”

He patted the side of his sledge.

“We were trying to cross the river, to reach Asgore’s camp,” Frisk explained. “It’s so far...”

“It may be, little one, but the Otherworld believes in you. We know you have the strength, goodwill, and determination to free this country. Nevertheless, I have some things that may aid you on your quest...”

Santa Paws lifted a large cloth sack from sleigh and set it on the ground in front of them.

“Presents!” Frisk cheered as he opened the bag, revealing soft toys, rubber balls, and some oddly shaped items wrapped in brown paper.

“First order of business—“ said Santa Paws, “—the Skeleton family’s gifts.”

Sans couldn’t help but stare at his empty paws in confusion. The big bearded husky chuckled.

“Your gift is some distance from here, heh-heh. Upon returning to your home, you two shall find all the leaky bits in the roof sealed up, and all parts damaged by the dogs and snakes to be repaired. Additionally, there will be joke books for Sans, and painting supplies for Lucida.”

The skeletons stammered their thanks, so much that it sounded less like talking and more like clacking bones. Then Santa Paws peeled the brown paper off those oddly-shaped items and began to distribute the humans’ gifts.

He knelt to be at Frisk’s level and handed her a glass bottle filled with honey-colored liquid. It felt warm to the touch. “This is the juice of the Golden Flowers that only grow on the tallest mountains to the east. If you or one of your allies is injured, one drop of this cordial will heal any wound.”

He also gave her a small dagger in a red leather sheath. “I hope you never need to use this, but in case you need to defend yourself...have this dagger.”

“Thank you...” Frisk turned the dagger over in her hands. “I think I could be brave enough, though.”

“You certainly are. Battles are ugly affairs, though, and I don’t want to see you get hurt. A good leader knows both when to fight and when to keep the weapon stowed.”

Next he took out a graceful bow and a quiver full of arrows. “There is an ally waiting for you at Asgore’s camp. You will know who they are when you meet them, and when you do, give them this bow and arrows. As long as they have faith, the arrows will not miss their mark.”

Kris had a bit of a sarcastic smile. “I thought battles were ugly affairs.”

“You are quite bold, my child. Even though you don’t seem to have trouble making yourself heard, I also want you to give your ally this.” Santa Paws handed him a hollow, curved ram’s horn. “In a moment of danger, if this horn is sounded, help will arrive no matter where you are.”

“Those are great gifts!” Frisk exclaimed. “Ooh, and I’m excited to meet our new friend.”

“Finally, Kris, I have these for you.” Santa Paws gave him a sheathed broadsword and a steel heater shield. Its coat of arms was a rampart ram-goat in gules. A sense of bravery and duty rushed through Kris as he armed his sword and shield. They felt strong, but sturdy, and just the right weight for him. It was as if they’d been forged with his exact abilities in mind.

“The time to use your tools may be well at hand. That goes for all of you. Indeed, they are tools, not toys. Bear them well.”

“Yes, sir!” said Frisk and Kris.

Santa Paws hefted the bag into the back of his sleigh. “And as for me, I have to be on my way. The bad magic is weakening, good times are returning to the Otherworld, Christmas is here, and things tend to pile up when you’ve been gone for years and years!”

He flicked the reins, and the elk started to canter. “Long live Asgore! And merry Christmas!”

“Good-bye!” the skeletons called to Santa Paws as he rode away. “Thank you!”

“Bye, sir!” Kris shouted. “See you next year!”

Frisk struggled to be heard over the whooshing sledge. “Bye-bye! Merry Christmas!”

And with that, Santa Paws and his elk were off and out of sight. Frisk turned to Kris with a silly smile.

“Told you he was real.”

The merriment faded from Kris’s face as he realized something. “Santa Paws said that the magic was weakening. The river is frozen because of the magic. You know what that means...no more ice.”


	9. Across the River

The four of them stood at the edge of the cliff, where the river dropped off the ledge as a waterfall, then collected in a pool about fifty feet below. For however long, the Spade King’s magic had kept it frozen into a mass of ice, spiky and rough. But now, with his power weakening, the ice creaked as it broke off into chunks and floated down a quickly-thawing current. The water beneath the ice was a deep blue – this was a very deep river.

“We need to cross, now,” Kris said. If they waited any longer, there might not be any ice left at all for them. Holding Frisk’s hand, he took one uneasy step and then another, climbing down the rocky slope to the bank below. The rocks were still wet from melting snow, making them slippery. One loose rock or poorly placed foot could send them both tumbling to the hard ground. If the children’s mother had seen what the kids were doing, she might have fainted.

“Oh!” cried Lucida. “Do be careful.”

“I heard skeletons can do a thing with summoning magic bones. Couldn’t you use them to build a dam?” Frisk inquired of Sans.

“I’m not that powerful, kiddo,” he said. “Sorry.”

In truth, Sans hadn’t been able to do magic for a long time. Not since the Spade King took over and cast his spells over the Dark World. Had he the skills, any of the threats he and the kids had dealt with would have been quick work. But now he was barely stronger than a child himself– maybe even less so.

If any of them considered _not_ going down to the bank and crossing the river, treacherous as the whole ordeal was, they were cured of it when they heard distant howling.

[(|)]

For the sound had come from the Spade King’s forces. They had found the den where the four had sheltered before meeting Santa Paws. The dogs tipped their heads back and let out a loud, long howl to alert the others. At the same time, the Spade King drove his sledge furiously over the softening snow, in hot pursuit of Chara’s siblings. Jevil cracked the whip and goaded on the sock horses. Chara continued to wallow helplessly at the Spade’s feet.

[(|)]

By some miracle, no-one had fallen during the descent to the embankment. Now they faced the rapidly-decaying ice sheet. Kris started forward, only for the floe in front of him to abruptly break off in a spray of mist and get carried away by the current.

“I’ll go first,” Sans offered. Carefully he slid one foot onto the ice, and then another. He only made it a few steps before the sheets of ice started to creak under his weight. He chuckled nervously.

“You’ve been sneaking second helpings, haven’t you?” Lucida accused him, hands on her hips.

“Well, you never know which meal is gonna be your last. Especially with Papy’s cooking.”

“What kind of an excuse is that? He hasn’t been home to cook for years, and—“

The ice floe that Kris and Frisk had stepped onto abruptly cracked with a nasty hissing sound.

“If Mom knew what we were doing—“

“Mom’s not here,” Kris said, sounding more brave than he felt. “Stay close. I’ll protect you.”

They shuffled just a few steps more when Frisk looked up, saw something, and screamed “Oh, no!”

A group of dogs and diamond snakes dashed across the top of the waterfall, not missing a step on their agile feet. With their athletic prowess, they cleared the frozen river and scampered down the slope with ease.

“Hurry, hurry!” Kris shouted to the others, but the Spade’s goons were faster than them. The dogs and snakes lunged towards them on the ice, blocking their way.

One of the dogs, a scruffy cream-colored terrier, lunged forward and tackled Sans to the ground. It kept him pinned by grabbing his neck in its teeth. He tried to wrestle free of the dog’s hold, but he wasn’t strong enough to overpower it. Two more dogs blocked Kris and Frisk’s way, growling. Their muscles were tense, like they were ready to pounce at any moment. Lucida was trapped on a cracked piece of cat ice. She could only watch the scene in terror.

Kris unsheathed his sword. He switched between pointing it at the black-and-white dog and the fluffy white dog. Instead of taking his warning seriously, the dogs just chuckled.

“Put that away, kid,” said the black and white dog, who seemed to be the leader. “Someone could get hurt.”

“Don’t hesitate!” Sans shouted. “Run him through while you have the chance!”

“You’re in over your head. This isn’t your war. Unless you want Asgore to lead you right to your deaths, that is.”

“All we want is for you to take your family and go,” added the white dog.

“Don’t listen to them! They’re lying.” Sans struggled to wrench the other dog’s jaws off him. “Protect yourself – they’ll kill you!”

Kris’s arms were shaking, not from the stamina to hold out his sword, but from stress. Frisk lost her footing and stumbled on the slippery surface.

“What’ll it be, Son of Adam?” asked the wolfish pack leader. “We won’t wait forever...and neither will the river!”

As if to illustrate his point, the frozen waterfall creaked. A fissure zigzagged its way across the ice, and a jet of pressurized water shot out.

“Gut him! Now!” Sans kicked the dog holding him captive in the throat, forcing it to let go. It skidded on the ice, then righted itself. It readied itself to lunge again.

“Kris! The waterfall!” Frisk cried, pointing. More and more cracks had appeared on the ice, splitting it into chunks. The river strained to break free of its confines, letting out an ominous rumble. And moments later, the ice relented. Like an avalanche, plates of ice broke free and crashed to the ground, with water gushing in their wake. Kris only had a few seconds to act, but he used them well.

“Everyone grab on to me!” he said, pulling Frisk close and reaching for Lucida. He raised his sword high and pointed the blade straight down. Instead of attacking the dogs, he stabbed his sword into the ice, giving them a strong handhold. The water from the newly unfrozen falls tumbled down upon them, splitting the sheet of ice over the river into floes. The dogs and snakes yelped as they were washed away by the powerful current. Kris, Frisk, and the skeletons momentarily went under.

And then they surfaced, shocked by the cold but otherwise unharmed. Sans and Lucida dove off the ice floe and pushed it along in the water, guiding it along the current. Frisk squealed in fright (she had never cared much for water or swimming, especially in a freezing river.) Their whitewater adventure lasted only a few moments, though, and soon their makeshift raft bumped up against the silty riverbank.

Kris yanked the sword out of the ice and stumbled onto dry land, gasping. He did feel pretty good about himself for saving his sister and friends, though. Lucida removed her pink scarf and wrung out the water.

“Lovely,” she said.

And then Kris realized something terrible. He was holding onto Frisk’s soaked coat...but Frisk wasn’t inside.

“No! No, no, no...” he stammered. “Frisk? Where are you? FRIIIIISK!”

After getting the worst scare of his life for those terrible few seconds, though, Kris heard a voice that sent waves of relief his way.

“Has anyone seen my coat?” a little girl’s voice asked. Frisk approached, shivering and hugging her arms around herself.

“Oh, thank God,” he breathed.

“Don’t you worry, Frisk dear!” Lucida called, laughing. “Your brother has you well looked after. And I don’t think you’ll be needing those heavy coats any longer. Look.”

She pointed a few feet away from the banks, where an apple tree had awoken to the new Spring. Soft green leaves covered its branches, and the buds for sweet white blossoms had already started to appear. It smelled heavenly. Prior to this, all the trees in the Otherworld had been scrawny and barely flowering. As the True King drew nearer, the world grew brighter.

“From here, we shouldn’t be too far from Asgore’s camp,” said Lucida. “I know it’s been a busy day for you, but you’ll have plenty time to rest at the camp.”

“Will they have soft blankets?” Frisk asked her. “I miss my bed at home. The bed sheets at the Professor’s house are scratchy.”

“Absolutely, honey. And there will be some fresh clothes for you all to change into. I’m sure you’ll appreciate that.”

At last, sunshine had come to the Otherworld.

[(|)]

The Spade King, Chara, and his jester henchman stood at the cusp of a small cliff. The king stared in disbelief and annoyance at the river below, which chugged along merrily in a springtime flood. Just a day earlier, the river had been frozen solid by evil magic. Spade had called for the spell to deprive a lowland community of its fresh water, as well as to make it easier for his sleigh to cross from one section of the mainland to another. But today, right before his eyes, lay evidence that his power had weakened.

“The day is bright, bright!” Jevil declared, and started to shrug off his outer-coat. Spade turned to him with a terrible expression. The jester wilted, put his coat back on, and muttered something about needing to check on the sledge.

“How is this possible?” the Spade King growled. “I cast this spell myself. I never recalled it! Something foul is afoot.”

“M-maybe your magic is weakening?” Chara suggested.

“Silence, Lightner!” He slapped her across the face, nearly knocking her to the ground. “Another word, and I shall have my Jevil beat you!”

Chara cringed away from him, holding her hand against the red welt that was quickly forming on her cheek. Spade tried to recast the spell himself, but it was clear that he no longer had that kind of power. It left him surrounded in a field of bad energy, which gave Chara an even more uneasy feeling than she already had. The king’s attempt at spellcasting quickly devolved into a stream of curses and oaths in an ancient, wicked language.

The tirade continued until a husky voice behind them said, “Your Majesty.”

The Secret Police had emerged from the woods, tired from a long night of the hunt. The leader held a small blue monster in its jaws. It roughly dropped its prisoner at the Spade King’s feet. The creature whimpered at their manhandling.

“We found the traitor, Your Majesty,” said the pack leader. “He was found rallying your enemies at the Ruins. What do you want us to do?”

“You? Nothing,” said the king. “You have done your work well. Be on your way. I will send for you when I need you again.”

The dogs nodded, pulled into pack formation, and returned to the endless woods. The “traitor” quivered. Chara didn’t recognize him, but the Spade King certainly did. And that was because he was –

“Ah. Lancer. I see you gave the Royal Guard quite the chase. So my own son decided to aid and abet the enemy?”

By now, Lancer had gotten up on his own two feet. He still shivered, but he stood his ground. He didn’t say anything. His nose twitched.

“I’m very disappointed. I had really expected better from you. Told the Guard lies and helped the humans escape – shameful. What has gotten into you, my son?”

Lancer still didn’t say anything. The bad aura around the king grew stronger yet. A deep feeling of dread settled over Chara.

“Of course. _Now_ you have gone quiet. You were never short on things to say otherwise. Ironic, is it not?” The Spade King then took out his spade-on-a-chain from his second mouth and pointed its tip at Lancer. “I will ask the question one more time. Where are the humans?”

“I’m sorry, Your Majesty,” Lancer said, in a quiet, defeated voice.

“Don’t waste my time with flattery,” said Spade. “It will get you nowhere.”

“No offense, Dad, but I wasn’t talking to you.” The little, puppy-like monster looked significantly at Chara. Spade made the connection and stared, incredulous, at the girl; then he looked back at his son. The mixture of confusion and betrayal on his face would have been sad if it had come from anyone else. Then, his expression hardened into nothing but cruelty.

“Very well then,” he said. “If you will associate with the enemy like this, I’m forced to treat you as the enemy.”

He raised the spade-on-a-chain, which glowed with magic. In that moment, Chara understood how the Spade King got his garden of stone creatures. She grabbed hold of his arm – the king was so much bigger than her that she had to grab him with both of her own arms.

“Wait, don’t,” she pleaded. “The Skeletons – they said something about Asgore, and the Delta Rune, and the Second Dark Fountain.”

Lancer let out a defeated sigh, shaking his head slightly at Chara. A sharp feeling of dread slithered down her throat and settled in her stomach. Why? What had she done wrong by saying that? Didn’t he want her to save his life?

“Thank you, Chara,” Spade said without a lick of sincerity. “I’m glad my son got to see some honesty. Before he dies.”

“No!” Chara cried, but it was too late. The wicked king stabbed Lancer with the spade, immediately freezing him into granite. In a moment the little puppy monster was gone, replaced by a statue of a terrified child slain by his own father. Chara’s lower lip trembled and she could feel tears welling up – and she hardly ever cried! She thought all her tears had already been wept. She had to turn away.

The Spade King suddenly slapped her again, this time even harder than before. He gripped her by the chin and tilted her head up.

“Think very hard about the choices you’re making, _dear_ Chara,” he said venomously. “Think about whose side you’re on. That of the losers--”

He turned her head, forcing her to look at the petrified Lancer.

“--or mine.” He let go of her, then summoned Jevil with a finger snap. “Go, and gather the faithful. If it’s a war Asgore wants...”

A little bird fluttered past. Spade struck it with his magic. It dropped to the ground as a chunk of marble, gazing at the world with sightless stone eyes.

“...it’s a war he shall get.”


	10. At Asgore's Camp

As the children and the skeleton family traveled to Asgore’s camp, they watched as the dead, winter-like limbo of the Otherworld bloomed into spring. Lucida was right about them not needing their heavy coats any more – the clammy cold faded from the air, leaving a May balminess instead. They made their way through an old woodland where the trees budded, flowered, and then grew canopies of emerald leaves right before their eyes. The uncomfortable silence gave way to birdsong, muttering brooks, and the whisper of wind through the trees. The earth softened from the sunlight and gentle rain. Thus it grew far too muddy, and with that came the realization that the Spade King would no longer be able to use his sledge (or at least, not so efficiently.) With that in mind, the group allowed themselves to slow down and stop for a break more often. Sans’s laziness shone through here, as he was the first to slouch down for a nap and the last to hit the road again. Kris wondered what had happened to his go-go-go-hurry-hurry-hurry attitude on the frozen river, but the teen wasn’t mourning its loss, either.

In the late morning of a fresh day, they arrived at a wide field edged by a woodland of flowering trees. At the sight of many purple and white tents, Kris sighed in relief.

“We’re here! We’re here!” Frisk cheered. “We’re gonna meet Asgore!”

“And his army,” Lucida added. “It certainly looks promising. Perhaps we’re not as outnumbered as we feared. Do you think that Lancer character is here, too?”

Sans shrugged.

As they approached the tent village, they passed a beautiful cherry tree. Its resplendent pink petals fluttered off the branches and coalesced into a vaguely feminine form. Frisk turned back and waved shyly at the Dryad, the tree-spirit, who waved back.

Inside the camp, a multitude of good monsters had gathered to support Asgore and, by extension, the human children. Although they looked odd, and sometimes scary, they exuded good vibes nonetheless. There were frogs with extra eyes, living skeletons like Sans or Mr. Papyrus, a great many flying creatures, unicorns, horses with fish tails, little volcanoes with happy faces, purple gorillas, strange fuzzy critters, turtle ducks, and more. As Kris, Frisk, Sans, and Lucida passed through, they stopped their work and watched intently.

“Why are they staring at us?” Kris wondered aloud.

“Maybe they think _we_ look funny,” said Frisk.

Inside the camp, a little goat monster approached them. He wore a green robe and a big hat, and his pink scarf fluttered in the wind. He gave them a deep (and excited?) bow, which Kris and Frisk felt obligated to return. There seemed to be something special about him.

“I’m Ralsei!” he introduced himself. “You must be those humans of which the prophecy speaks. I should know – I studied it for...forever really. You’re the ones who will save the Otherworld! I, um, pictured someone taller, but that’s okay...”

Kris yelped in surprise when Frisk abruptly yanked on the quiver strapped to his back. She was trying to get the bow and arrows. He clumsily shrugged off the quiver and its contents, his attention divided between the newcomer and his sister.

“He’s the one,” Frisk said, holding out the bundle to Ralsei. “Here, take these. Santa Paws said they are for a friend, and we’d know who it is. And it’s you.”

“How do you know?” Kris asked, still rather distracted.

“It may be because I’m a prince of darkness.” Ralsei noticed their concerned looks. “I know that sounds spooky, but I’m a good guy. I mean, if I wasn’t, I wouldn’t be part of Asgore’s army.”

“We’ve already been betrayed once,” Kris said warily.

The goat monster looked hurt. “You don’t trust me?”

“I trust him,” Frisk piped up.

“Look, away from here, there’s a special Fountain of the Dark in my citadel. Along with the Light Fountain at the Newhome Castle, it maintains the balance in this world. But over a hundred years ago, the Spade King opened a second Dark Fountain, and its power upset the yin-yang of light and dark – that’s why it was so cold and gloomy until Asgore arrived. And when you arrived, too. It won’t be stopped for good without your help, though, and that’s why we need you. I’ll be there for you.”

“Eh...All right.” Kris shrugged. “If Frisk trusts you, then you must be okay. She has good sense.”

Frisk smiled at the compliment.

“I mean, run it all past Asgore. He’ll vouch for me.” Ralsei blushed. “Speaking of, I think it’s high time you met him. That’s what you came here for, right?”

Under the shade of an ancient elm tree, someone had set up a very important-looking purple tent. The emblem of a rearing goat had been embroidered onto the tent flap. Outside stood a tall and broad-shouldered fish woman monster in shiny steel armor. The general of Asgore’s army. She held a massive spear in her hand, which crackled with blue energy and the children hoped was mostly for show.

Kris drew his sword and held it out awkwardly to her. “We have come to see Asgore. To, um, to help us find our sister.”

The fish woman didn’t say anything, but turned towards the tent, which stirred. There was a big rustling sound behind the children – everyone nearby had knelt, including the skeleton family. The human children took the hint and also knelt.

Out of the tent emerged Asgore himself, the true king of the Otherworld. He was a mighty bull goat with long curved horns, a golden beard, and silky, cream-colored fur. A long purple cape hung off his shoulders and trailed on the ground behind him.

“Welcome, my children,” he greeted them. “Son of Adam, and daughter of Eve. But there is a third. Where are they?”

“That’s part of why we came to see you,” Kris said. “On our way here, our sister Chara got captured by the Spade.”

“How did this happen?” inquired Asgore.

“Your majesty, she betrayed them,” Sans explained, so Kris didn’t have to.

Clearly this struck a nerve with the general, who raised a fist and shouted “Then she has betrayed us all!”

“Calm down, Undyne,” Asgore scolded her. “I’m sure there’s a reason behind all this.”

“It’s my fault,” Kris stammered. “I gave her a hard time about, well everything really. We all did. She may be a brat, but she’s our sister, sir.”

“I know,” Asgore said gently; then he sighed. “But that only makes the betrayal all the worse. The closer they are to you, the more it hurts. This will be a difficult endeavor, my son...it may be harder than you think.”

[(|)]

The meeting at Asgore’s tent disbanded shortly thereafter, as it was time for afternoon tea and preparations for dinner than night. Frisk and Ralsei left to go play – a stream coming out of the woods ran past the camp, and the cold fresh spring-water beckoned to them. Besides, they had come a long way, and Frisk deserved to have some time to rest. The followers of Asgore gifted Kris with a set of fresh Otherworld clothes – a sturdy tunic and hose to replace his dirty shirt and pants, boots to replace his worn-out sneakers, and a piece of leather armor to fit over his tunic. His new clothes fit his sword-belt and shield a lot better, too. Although he didn’t quite feel like a hero yet, he at least looked the part.

That evening, Asgore approached Kris and requested to speak with him. The great goat took him to a hill overlooking the gorgeous Otherland wilderness. From this tall vantage point, they could see almost everything – miles of lush woodlands and flowered plains, with the rivers and lakes shining gold in the sunset. At its farthest point, the land joined with the eastern sea, and there stood a castle straight out of a fairy-story book. The waning sunlight reflected off its many windows and its shiny marble stone, making it appear like a sparkle of glitter or a star set on the beach.

“That is the Newhome Castle,” Asgore explained to Kris. “It is my home here in the Otherland, and soon, you and your siblings will rule from it as Kings and Queens.”

Kris didn’t say anything.

“Do you have your doubts?” the goat asked.

“No offense, your majesty, but yes. I mean, who do you think we are?” Kris asked, feeling lost.

“Kris Dreemurr, from Alamogordo,” Asgore replied without missing a beat. “The skeleton Sans also mentioned that you planned on turning him into bone broth.”

Kris couldn’t help but chuckle. But Asgore’s tone went serious again.

“There is a Deep Magic within all of us, young one. It tells right from wrong and governs all our destinies. Yours...and mine.”

The great goat looked away from Kris. His ear flicked back.

“I don’t know, sir. Look, I couldn’t protect my family.”

“You brought them here safely,” Asgore pointed out.

Kris crossed his arms morosely. “Not Chara.”

“My son, I will do what I can to help your sister. But I need you to think about what I’m asking of you.” He sighed. “I, too, want to keep my family safe.”

[(|)]

The Spade King had a camp of his allies, too. Chara, however, was not having a good time like her siblings were at Asgore’s camp. Her time there was perfectly dreadful. After the incident with Lancer, the Spade had dragged her even further through the wilderness to reach his army. Whenever she stumbled on the way, for she was very tired, Jevil smacked her with his whip. They came to a creepy, swampy area in the midst of a dying forest. Out of the bog came a company of disgusting and evil creatures – ghouls and hags and ogres and mutants and werewolves and many other despicable beings.

“We will prepare the victim for the Dark Fountain later tonight,” the Spade had said. “For now, restrain the human creature.”

Jevil did as instructed, propping Chara up against a tree and binding her to it. To keep her quiet, he tied a gag over her mouth too. Once he did that, however, he was far from finished with her. The jester took much delight in taunting Chara. He stalked around the tree, giggling and leering at her with his piercing yellow eyes and sharp toothed-smile.

“Tee-hee! Is the little princess uncomfortable?” he jeered. “Does she want her pillow fluffed?”

He took off his hat and whacked Chara across the face with it.

“Only special treatment for someone so special, special. Ha! Ha! Ha!”

Chara shied away, cringing.

“Silly girl. Isn’t this what you wanted? It’s all thanks to you, you.”

[(|)]

Frisk abandoned her socks and boots at the shore of the woodland stream. Wading knee-deep in the warm springtime current, she splashed around and looked for interesting rocks. Upon arriving at Asgore’s camp, she’d swapped her dirty, wet surface-world clothes for a comfortable Otherworldian tunic and pants. Interestingly enough, her new clothes were still blue with purple stripes, just like her old outfit. Some things just don’t change, apparently. Only a little ways upstream, a young dinosaur monster bounced in the gently flowing water. They introduced themselves to Frisk as “Monster Kid” shortly after the siblings’ arrival at the camp. One of their first suggestions to Frisk was that they go play in the stream while Kris handled, as Monster Kid put it, “boring grown-up stuff.”

Ralsei waded in the stream, too. Every so often he found an interesting stone on the bed and held it up to the light. His scarf was all wet, but he didn’t seem to mind. He did have the good sense to leave the bow and arrows by a chair a small ways away. They didn’t need to get wet all over again, especially not after the river adventure.

“Did you find any cool rocks?” Frisk called to Ralsei. Too absorbed in his treasure hunt, he didn’t even hear her. Monster Kid splashed him.

“Aah!” the goat boy yelped when they landed five inches away from him. Frisk and Monster Kid giggled. Ralsei got his revenge by splashing them back. Within moments, it was an all-out water war between the three youngsters. Ralsei’s hat fell off, and he scampered onto the stream’s edge to fetch a towel.

Big mistake. Pulling the towel off the line revealed a snarling dog – one of the king’s Secret Police! Frisk, Monster Kid, and Ralsei screamed in terror. Luckily, in that split second, he remembered his magic horn and how it was within running distance. Ralsei slapped the leader-dog in the face with the towel, then ran as fast as he could.

Up on the knoll, the sound of a bleating horn alerted Kris and Asgore.

“Frisk! She’s in trouble!” Kris dashed off in the direction of the noise, strapping on his shield while he ran. Frisk, Monster Kid, and Ralsei had climbed up a tree to get away from the dogs, but it wasn’t quite good enough. The leader of the dogs kept jumping up and snapping its teeth at them, dangerously close to Frisk’s dangling legs.

“Kris! Help!” they cried.

He whipped out the sword. The leader turned its attention away from the three in the tree and regarded Kris with an eye roll.

“Oh, great,” it said. “This again.”

At once a group of the good guys from Asgore’s side rushed in to help. General Undyne was in the lead, already poising her spear to strike. But Asgore told them to –

“Stand off! This is Kris’s battle.”

He stomped a hoof down on the other dog, pinning it in place. It wouldn’t be going anywhere.

Once again, Kris found himself alternating between the leader dog and its lackey, holding the sword out but unsure of what to do.

“We’ve been through this before,” the leader sneered. “I know you haven’t got it in you.”

Kris tried to threaten them into leaving. “Don’t make me use this.”

“Pfft,” scoffed the leader. “Stupid kid. You think this is all a game, huh? Swing a sword and be a hero? You might think you’re a king, but in the end, you’re gonna die...LIKE A DOG!”

The brute lunged for him, with full intent to kill. Kris panicked and dove in right as the dog was coming, in such a way that his sword ended up lancing through the beast’s heart. They both tumbled to the ground in a ragged, gamey heap. Blood splattered on the grass.

“KRIS!” Frisk cried, jumping down from the treetop. With Ralsei’s and Monster Kid’s help, she shoved the dog’s body off Kris. He had a nosebleed and was kind of shaken up, but other than that, he was no worse for the wear. He sat up, panting and grinning.

“Did I win?”

Asgore lifted his hoof off the other dog, who yelped and fled back into the woods. It had no interest in taking on Kris, not after he had proven that he was competent after all. Many of Spade’s followers were like that – they were only tough in numbers, and when on their own they turned out to be quite cowardly.

“After them,” Asgore instructed the team of good guys at his side. “That dog will lead you to the Spade King’s camp. Perhaps to Chara as well, I hope. And Kris?”

“Yes, sir?”

“Please do not forget to clean your sword.”

Kris pressed the tip of his sword’s blade into the grass, kneeling before Asgore. The great Goat tapped him on both shoulders with his powerful hoof. Though the ceremony was impromptu, it was still quite solemn. Frisk, Monster Kid, and Ralsei watched with respect.

“Rise, Sir Kris the Dog’s Bane...knight of the Otherworld,” Asgore declared as he performed the ceremony. Kris rose to his feet, and it may have been Frisk’s imagination, but he seemed to stand a little taller now.


	11. The Rescue and the Deep Magic

Having left Jevil to guard (or maybe just harass) Chara while she was tied to the tree, the Spade King turned his attention to other matters. He now stood in a tent-pavilion, reviewing military strategy with his general. A terrible ogre with sweeping, devilish horns led the Spade’s army as the General. Tonight he conferred with the Spade King over a map, explaining his plans for attack.

“Asgore’s army is small.” His voice was deep and husky. “If we overpower them in this battle, they may not have enough troops to continue, and they will surrender.”

“But they _are_ determined,” the Spade countered. “As long as they have troops they will fight. And now that... _he_ is on the move, they will be all the more emboldened. Your strategy cannot merely defeat them. It has to crush them.”

“As you wish, my lord. I think we should use the Hathy monsters to protect the left flank. We’ll keep the strongest ogres in reserve and send in the Cruels, Rudinns, and ghouls in first.”

“We can do that.”

Many evil heads suddenly snapped up as a howl rang through the camp. Where they had left a spot unguarded, in flooded a team of good guys. Undyne led the charge; the fish woman’s spear of justice was at the ready. The ghouls and Hags nearby were caught by surprise. Not all of them grabbed their weapons in time, and they fell easily to the hooves, claws, and swords of Asgore’s followers.

The Spade King didn’t care so much about that loss as he did about potentially losing—

“The prisoner!” exclaimed the General.

In a huff, the king got out his spade-on-a-chain and stormed over to the tree where he had left Chara. The General came with him, as did a couple werewolves and an overgrown opossum. They had come too late, however. Around the area were defeated monsters, either dead or winded from the ambush, and the followers of Asgore had already left. Worse still for the Spade, Chara was also gone, and in her place, Jevil was tied up against the tree.

The jester glanced pitifully at them. He’d been gagged in the same way Chara had, and a dagger with Asgore’s emblem pinned his hat to the tree trunk. Glowering, the Spade yanked the dagger free of the trunk, and made motion as though he was going to run his henchman through. Jevil made choking, gaspy sounds behind the gag as the blade whizzed down towards him—

—but instead of stabbing him, it cut through the ropes. He spilled onto the ground in a wheezy heap. Whimpering, he pulled off the gag. The other monsters looked at the Spade King, confused.

“You were not going to kill, kill?” asked Jevil.

“No,” said the Spade, flicking the dagger away in disgust. “Not yet, anyway.”

[(|)]

Kris emerged from a tent sent up for him, having awoken from an afternoon nap. After knighting him, Asgore had told him to wait in his tent and get some rest to make up for lost time. As for the good guys who’d chased the fleeing dog towards the Spade’s camp, he’d expected a spy mission and not a rescue. So it came as quite the surprise when Undyne met him outside his tent and pointed towards a shaded spot under a sycamore tree, where Asgore stood with the freshly recovered Chara.

The two stood face to face, conversing in low, quiet voices. Asgore had a few important things that he had to tell Chara – things which were strictly between them. Nobody else heard their conversation, but it was one that Chara would never forget. She held her hands behind her back and rocked softly on her heels. At the sight of Kris approaching, they fell quiet and glanced back at him.

“Chara! Oh it’s so good to have you back!” Frisk pushed past Kris and ran at Chara. She threw her arms around her sister in a big warm hug. Instead of shooing her sister away, Chara returned the gesture, wrapping her arms around Frisk’s small form. She even patted Frisk on the back.

“How do you feel?” Kris asked her.

“A little tired,” Chara replied.

“Yeah, I can imagine. Why don’t you get some sleep?”

He gestured to the cluster of tents nearby. Chara started to make her way toward them, until he added:

“By the way, Chara...Try not to wander off.”

They shared a playful laugh. No, she didn’t plan on wandering off anymore. She was going to put those days behind her.

[(|)]

The next morning, the siblings shared breakfast on a picnic blanket as the sun rose in the east. All three of them now had Otherworldian outfits – Chara had changed into a comfortable cotton blouse and hose to replace her fusty, dirty clothes. Frisk nibbled on a pear while Kris sprinkled salt on a boiled egg. As for Chara, she chowed down on toast with honey.

Frisk watched Chara destroy her food. “We’re not going to run out of toast, sis.”

“Yeah, they’ll pack some stuff up for you when you go home,” Kris added.

“Huh?” Both girls looked at him quizzically. “We’re going home? But we—“

“You two are. It’s not safe for you here, and I can’t risk it. But I can stay back here and help them fight.”

“No,” Frisk protested; she glanced around at them. “They need us...all three of us.”

“It’s for you own good, Frisk. I mean, you almost drowned! Chara almost got killed!”

“Which is why we need to stay,” Chara countered. “Look, I’ve seen what the Spade can do. However bad you think he is, I’ve seen him do worse things. And I’ve helped him do it...We can’t leave these people behind to suffer.”

Kris hated to admit it, but Chara was right. He just didn’t want to put his family in any more danger.

“I guess that settles it, then,” Frisk said, standing up.

“Where are you going?” Kris asked.

She picked up her belt with the dagger. “To meet up with Ralsei and get some practice!”

[(|)]

Outside the camp, the good guys had set apart an area to practice their skills for battle. The time to fight the Spade’s army was soon at hand. Ralsei and Frisk stood in front of a row of targets, their weapons ready. Ralsei nocked an arrow on his special bow and took aim. He loosed the string and sent the arrow whizzing, whereupon it stuck in the canvas on the blue outer ring. It gave Frisk an idea.

She got out her dagger, grinning, and poised to throw it like she’d seen in the movies. Letting go, she watched as the little blade sailed across the air…

...and landed right on the bulls-eye! She let out a happy squeal while Ralsei applauded politely.

As the did target practice, Kris and Chara rode by on a pair of horses with fish tails. They carried swords and beat them together in a sparring match. In case of an attack by the Spade’s forces, the army wanted them to be able to defend themselves. So their horses pranced about on the hillocks while they practiced their sword fighting.

“That’s it, Chara,” Kris was saying. “Keep the point up, like Undyne showed us.”

“En garde,” Chara said as their sword-blades clanged together.

“Now block.”

In the midst of their “fight,” Sans hurried onto the field (to see him run was a rare sight, granted) and interrupted them. Chara’s horse reared in surprise, whinnying.

“Hey! Whoa, horsey!” she exclaimed.

The horse came down sputtering in annoyance.

“My name is Aaron,” he told her tartly.

“Uh, sorry.”

“It’s the Spade,” Sans explained between gasps for breath. “He demands a parley with Asgore. And he’s on his way here, right now!”

[(|)]

“The Spade King!” a raspy voice crowed. “Lord of the Dark World, master of the Great Fountains!”

Jevil waddled at the front of a procession entering Asgore’s camp. The Spade rode in a sedan chair carried by four _very_ strong minotaurs. At the sight, Asgore’s followers threw boos and hisses their way. People shouted things like “Get lost!” and “Go away, you don’t belong here!”

All at once the air of merriment around camp disappeared. It may have been Frisk’s imagination, but the air seemed to grow colder as the sky turned overcast. Whenever the Spade appeared, he was sure to ruin everyone’s fun. A crowd of good guys had gathered in front of Asgore’s tent as soon as they got the news of the Spade’s arrival. The children were there, too, standing uneasily beside Asgore as he sat on a large flat rock. He scowled as the minotaurs carried the litter over and lowered it onto the ground before him.

The Spade King rose to his feet and stated smugly, “You know you have a traitor in your midst, don’t you?”

There was a slight gasp and scattered murmurs from the crowd. Chara shifted from foot to foot.

“Two, more like it,” Asgore muttered under his breath, and then out loud he said, “Her offense wasn’t against you.”

“But you _do_ know what it means. Or have you forgotten?” His voice had an intolerable edge of taunting to it. “Have you forgotten the ancient laws of the Dark World?”

“Do _NOT_ cite the Deep Magic to me, Spade!” Asgore snarled. “I was there when it was written.”

“Then you’ll remember what it says: all traitors belong to me. It is not my privilege, but my duty, to ensure that they receive what is due for their treason.”

A sword unsheathed; it was Kris’s. “Yeah? Then come and take her. Try it!”

The king just chuckled at the teen and his clumsily-held sword. “Really now. Do you think you can deny me my right by brute force...little King?

“Asgore knows full well that unless I have the traitor’s blood, as the Deep Magic demands, all of the Dark World – _or the Otherworld as you call it_ – shall be shaken, overturned, and thrown down to perish in fire and water. The girl Chara must die, and will die, at the Dark Fountain. As is tradition. You dare not refuse me! To do that would be to go against the Deep Magic.”

Chara shuddered. Frisk grabbed her hand and squeezed it.

“Enough!” Asgore almost roared; he sighed. “Come, Spade. I shall talk with you alone.”

The Spade agreed to this, and the two of them disappeared into Asgore’s tent to discuss. The tensest of silences fell over the camp. Not a whisper, not a breath of their conversation escaped that tent, for as long as it went on. And it went on for quite some time. The children sat on the grass, waiting for whatever may come. Chara grimaced as she picked at the grass and knotted clover stems. Kris leaned against a tree at first, but then sank into a sitting position. Frisk pulled herself into a ball.

At long last, they were to get their answers. The Spade threw the tent flaps open, stone-faced. He threw a glare at Chara before going to his litter. He didn’t sit down yet, though. Asgore emerged next, and he announced to everyone that

“The Spade has renounced his claim on the Daughter of Eve’s blood.”

At once, the camp erupted into applause and cheers. Frisk hugged Chara, and Kris patted her on the back. Undyne nodded, looking quite pleased. The Spade King didn’t like the sight of his enemies celebrating.

“How can I be sure you’ll keep your promise?” he asked of Asgore.

The great Goat looked him in the eye and let out a terrifying bray, more like a roar than anything else, and made such a frightening face that Frisk could scarcely even look at him. The Spade went a bit pale and sat down in his litter. He, Jevil, and the minotaurs left in shame while the good guys enjoyed a nice laugh.

In the midst of the merry moment, Frisk saw Asgore, and he was not laughing. In fact, he looked very sad. But why?


	12. The Triumph of the Spade

Just as it had at the beginning of this adventure, sleep once again evaded Frisk. Though she turned over in bed, fussed with her blankets, and fluffed her pillow, it seemed nothing could lull her to sleep. She lay on her back in her hammock, staring up at the Delta Rune patterns on the tent canvas and listening to the wind outside. The air smelled faintly of honeysuckle.

She rolled over on her side and whispered, “Ralsei. Ralsei.”

The goat monster turned over on his pallet and looked at her. “You can’t sleep either?”

“I feel like something terrible is about to happen,” Frisk confessed.

“But Chara was rescued, and the Spade King isn’t going to—“

“It’s about Asgore,” whispered Frisk.

They both sucked in sharp breaths as a large shadow fell over their tent. They recognized the long curving horns at once. It was Asgore, passing them as he left the camp.

“Where is he going?” Ralsei wondered aloud.

“Don’t know.” Frisk whisked her blankets out and crawled out of the hammock. Ralsei slipped off his pallet and followed her out of the tent. They crept along behind Asgore as he walked through the dark understory of the forest. An unsettling silence hung over the night; save for the slight rustle of the wind there was no other sound. No nocturnal birds made calls, not even any owls, and the chirping of spring frogs could not be heard. Ralsei and Frisk darted behind trees every time they thought Asgore saw them or heard their footsteps. Then the great Goat spoke.

“Shouldn’t you two be in bed?” His voice sounded quiet and tired, a far cry from his usual noble rumble.

The children came out of hiding. “We couldn’t sleep.”

“Can we come with you? Please?” Frisk asked.

“Hm,” Asgore mumbled. “You may, for a little while. I would appreciate the company. Thank you.”

They stood on either side of Asgore as they continued on their way through the forest. As they walked, Frisk could not shake that feeling of impending doom. No matter how peaceful this night was with its warm air, sweet floral smells, and quietude, nothing could settle her. On instinct, she grasped a handful of Asgore’s mane, as if afraid she was about to lose him. The golden hair felt sturdy and soft in her hand.

Presently they came to a hilltop edged by large fallen stones – from there, the land curved down into a clearing. As they crested the hill, Asgore told them:

“From here, I must go alone. The time has come. No matter what happens, you must stay hidden.”

“But—“ Frisk protested. “Where are you doing?”

“What’s happening?” Ralsei pleaded.

“Trust me,” Asgore told them. “I have to do this. Please, do not let yourselves be seen.”

He departed from them, going down into the valley. The children peered out from a cluster of shrubbery at the top of the hill. And they saw something horrible.

The ruins of an ancient stone temple dominated the valley, its crumbling pillars and arches looming like steely watchmen. In the middle of it stood the Dark Fountain, which turned out to be not a water-fountain but a tower of cold blue flame. The flame from the Dark Fountain seemed to greedily suck the moonlight from the sky. In front of it there lay a stone altar like a table supported by round rocks, which was carved all over with strange symbols. But the crowd that was gathered there…

Oh, the horde of evil beings that surrounded the Dark Fountain! Monstrous minotaurs and ogres and Cruels and Hags, misshapen mutants, the blood-lusting dogs and snakes of the Spade’s forces...it seemed every one of the Spade king’s foul followers had gathered there that night. They carried long-handled torches that burned with an eldritch red flame. And if the silence of the forest gave the night a tense air, the horrible din these monsters made was far worse. The air was full of their howls and snorts and high-pitched, cackling laughter. And in the center of it all stood the Spade King, clad all in black, his crown missing, and a dagger in his paws.

At the sight of Asgore approaching, the company of evildoers grew all the more restless. They pulled back from the stone steps as Asgore ascended them. They squealed and gibbered like a pack of demented pigs. One very bold harpy squatted in front of the Goat and hissed, flapping its leathery wings and long ears at him. But he was completely unfazed by the display, and so the spooked monster fluttered away to perch atop a stone arch. He did not say a word nor did he even look at the Spade’s followers. He wore not a resolute expression, but rather a nervous one, as he approached the stone altar.

“Behold,” said the Spade sarcastically, “the great and mighty Goat.”

The monsters laughed cruelly. A few jeered at Asgore. The Spade’s ogre general approached the Goat, holding a battleaxe. With its master’s go-ahead, it struck Asgore on the head with the butt end of its weapon. He toppled to the ground, to a roar of excitement from the crowd.

“Wha—!” Ralsei exclaimed from the hiding-place.

Frisk had her hands over her mouth in shock. “Why doesn’t he fight back?”

“Now bind him,” the Spade demanded. Several followers fell in, holding ropes and twine. But they held back, their snickers and smirks betraying fear. They knew even one swipe of the great Goat’s powerful hoofs or his horns could severely wound, if not kill, them.

The Spade King would not see such hesitation. “I said bind him! Bind him fast!”

Mustering up their courage, the wicked monsters swarmed around the fallen Asgore, sometimes trampling over him in their frenzy to tie him up. They looped ropes around his ankles, his snout, his neck, and anything else they could bind. When they stepped back, cheering as though they’d done something brave, Asgore looked more like a bundle of ropes than a Goat.

Frisk whimpered.

Taking hold of the rope tails, the bad guys started to drag Asgore toward the altar. But the Spade stopped them short.

“Halt!” he shouted. “First, let him be shaved.”

Another roar of mean laughter went up from them. Jevil took out a small knife and perched himself over Asgore. He grasped a fistful of the Goat’s beard, pulling at it painfully, and cut it off with the blade. He cackled and waved the clump of hair over his head, then tossed it to the others. Emboldened, they too rushed at Asgore with their knives and shears. He winced as they once again crawled all over him, shaving off his lovely golden beard and mane, and some of his fur too. Someone even took a sword and used it to saw off his horns.

“Aww, poor goat, goat!” Jevil taunted. “Would you like some apples? Some fresh hay, hay? Ha! Ha! Ha!”

“Those brutes!” Ralsei cried. “Oh, why doesn’t Asgore do anything? He’s strong enough to take them on!”

“Now bring him to me!” the Spade commanded with a grand gesture. He unsheathed the knife. So his followers approached the tied-up, shaved Goat and picked up the tails of the ropes. This time, they approached him without hesitation. Not able to lift him, they dragged him to the altar instead, Asgore wincing as he scraped against the rough stone. They weren’t careful bringing him up onto the altar either, and he banged his head against its side. Once the Goat was centered on the altar, they rolled over some heavy rocks and placed them on the rope tails as weights. But it was not as if they needed the weights. Asgore remained still; this whole time he had not made a single movement to strike back against his foes.

“What’s happening?” Frisk gasped.

With their enemy tied up and helpless before the Spade, the evildoers whipped themselves into a frenzy. They chattered. They cheered. They squealed and gibbered and jeered. Their shouts of abuse and mockery spun into the night sky like smoke. Then their king thrust out an arm to command silence.

A deep hush fell over the gathering, one so thick and heavy it was like a quilt settling over them. Those standing closest to the altar backed up a few steps. The lull lasted a moment or two, and then a sound broke the silence. It was that of a stick tapping against stone.

The Spade’s followers beat the handles of their long torches against the ground in a hollow rhythm. It sounded like death itself, like the rattle of bones in the coffin.

“What are they doing now?” Ralsei whispered to Frisk, who could only shake her head.

The beat of the torches against the ground continued as the whole company seemed to hold its breath. The Spade’s face was a twitching mask of rage and wild anticipation, but Asgore remained calm. If anything, he looked a little sad, but accepting of what was to come. The King of Spades sucked in a shuddery breath and knelt down to talk to his enemy.

“Ha...ha...I have to say, Asgore, I’m a little disappointed,” he said. “All this for some bratty little kid. It’s some plan. Did you really think it would work? Of course, the Deep Magic will be pleased, but at what cost? What is to stop me from killing the human vermin tomorrow? Do you think they will have even a little morale after they hear what happened to you?”

Asgore said nothing. He didn’t even make a face to react. The Spade stood up and addressed his crowd of evil monsters.

“Rejoice! Tonight, the Deep Magic will be satisfied! We ourselves have delivered the sacrifice to it. But tomorrow, we shall rush to the battle-field, and the Dark World will be ours! FOREVER!”

The crowd roared in wicked excitement.

The Spade patted Asgore’s head mockingly. “In that knowledge, despair--”

Frisk’s eyes widened in terror. “No--”

“And DIE!”

The children did not actually see the moment of the killing. They couldn’t bear to look, so they covered their eyes. But they felt the world heave for a moment. A small tremor shook the ground, like the earth itself cried out in anguish.

“The great Goat...is DEAD!” screamed the Spade, to the cheers of his followers and the sobs of the children.


	13. The Call to Arms and the Deeper Magic

The children did not realize it, but they were in great danger in the moments immediately thereafter. The Spade’s forces cheered and called out in excitement as they departed to the battlefield, anticipating a short and bloody fight. They were ready to cut down the last of the resistance against the Spade. Though the children were well-hidden in their small nook, if they were to be discovered, the consequences would be dire. But they thought nothing of that, not even with the thunder of monstrous hooves shaking the ground nearby or the snorts of minotaurs and ogres sounding in their ears. They held each other until long after the enemy had left. By then, dawn had begun to light up the sky.

Sniffling and wiping their tear-encrusted cheeks, Frisk and Ralsei emerged from their hiding-place. The air was cold and the grass was dewy as they quietly shuffled to the altar. In the wan daylight, the Dark Fountain hardly looked less menacing. Nevertheless, the children approached the altar, too grieved to care much about the fountain’s menacing drone or the pre-dawn chill settling over them. They moved with a slow, almost zombie-like gait and paced aimlessly around the altar where Asgore’s body lay.

Frisk realized something just then, and she moved to pull the bottle of healing potion from the folds of her clothes.

As she struggled to uncork it, Ralsei chuckled sadly and said, “I think it’s too late. He’s dead. Save that for later.”

Frisk sighed and put it away again. Ralsei was probably right – Santa Paws said the cordial could be used to heal any injury or sickness, but he never said anything about it bringing people back from the dead. Ralsei rested his head against Asgore in resignation. Frisk looked at his prone form. Even in death, shorn of his hair, and tied up in hateful ropes, the great Goat retained his noble look. She tried to untie some of the ropes or pull them off, but the wicked ones had made sure they held fast, and her fingers were cold to boot.

A small shuffling sound came from the grass, approaching them, resembling the scurry of many tiny feet. Neither of them had to wonder for long what it could be, for very soon a huddle of mice and tiny Whimsun moths scrambled up onto the altar and over Asgore.

“Ugh! Get away!” Ralsei snapped at them, making motions to shoo them. “Get away, you nasty things.”

“Wait,” said Frisk. “Look at that.”

The mice and moths were not there to harm Asgore. Instead, they nibbled at the ropes. At first nothing seemed to happen, but then a cord here and a knot there snapped apart.

“Poor things,” Ralsei commented, “they don't realize he's dead. They think it might do some good to untie him.”

“Let them be,” Frisk suggested.

In a few minutes, the tiny, friendly creatures managed to gnaw through most of Asgore's bonds. Frisk was able to push the rope tying his mouth shut off his snout. He looked much stronger and nobler without it. Ralsei stood up.

“We need to go. To tell the others,” he said. “Especially Kris. It...it will hurt, but they ought to know.”

“But we can't leave him here!” Frisk protested.

“What are we going to do, then?” Ralsei crossed his arms as a cold wind rushed over them. A wind that ruffled the branches of some nearby cherry blossom trees. That gave Frisk an idea.

“The trees!”

A flurry of leaves and petals carried on the breeze, from the Dark Fountain all the way to Asgore's camp. It blew into Kris and Chara's tent. Kris startled awake and reached for his sword, pulling it out of its sheath and pointing it. Chara looked confused and a bit rattled as the leaves and flowers coalesced into the form of a beautiful woman.

“Be at peace, my king and queen,” the hamadryad said. “I am an ally. I bring you grave news from your sisters.”

[(|)]

Kris and Chara stumbled out of their tent in a daze. Their faces showed many mixed emotions – sorrow, fear, rage, and wonder at what was to happen now. Not far outside the tent, General Undyne and some other strong fighters glanced up at the children. They stood around a small table with what looked like a checkerboard on top. It was no board game, however – it was a map of the Field of Hopes and Dreams, and the pieces on top of it were meant to represent parts of Asgore's army and the enemy's hordes. It was for planning battle strategies.

“Last night, I talked in parley to some of the Spade's fighters,” Undyne had finished explaining to others. “They agreed to a fair fight in the Field of Hopes and Dreams.”

“I can't believe it,” someone said. “The Spade's followers, agreeing to a civil discussion?”

“General Undyne?” asked Kris. “I think I know why they were okay with talking to you last night.”

“Why's that?” she said.

He gulped, then passed on the bad news. The light faded from the fish woman's yellow eyes.

“No,” she said softly, then she cringed. “No, we can't give up either. We must fight.”

“But General—“ another person spoke up.

She cut them off with a “I said, we will fight!” Her voice was nearly a snarl.

“Undyne's right,” Chara told her brother. “The Otherworld still needs us. It means you have to be the leader, Kris.”

“I can't. I can't lead an army. I'm only a kid.”

“Asgore believed you could! And you _are_ a leader! Look, you brought us from the fountain all the way to here. Dad would be super proud of you. And I'm proud, too.”

The faintest smile appeared on Kris's face. He sighed.

“The Spade's army will be here by tomorrow morning,” Undyne said to him. “What do you want to do?”

[(|)]

The Field of Hopes and Dreams would live up to its name on that day, as the army of the good guys convened for one last shot at defeating the Spade's forces. A late-morning sun, the first direct sunlight in ages, shone on the huge expanse of purplish grass. On the end with Kris and his army, the land curved up into a rocky cliff area. On the enemy's side, it remained level until it joined with the red maple forest in the distance. Just beyond the maples lay the dead swamp and the Spade's war camp.

At the moment, a spy for Kris's army flew out from the enemy's side – a Starwalker Bird with brown feathers. With a single thrust of its large wings, it had enough momentum to soar across the entire field to where the troopes were gathered. It made a wide turn over the cliff where Chara and Sans, outfitted in little sets of armor, stood. Finally, it touched down next to Kris where he stood at the front of the assembly. Kris was seated on a milky white unicorn, trying to keep a brave face for the others.

“They're coming fast, sir,” the Starwalker Bird told him, “with numbers and weapons greatly exceeding ours.”

“Numbers don't win battles!” Undyne retorted from Kris's side. Her mount was a fast and strong lizard beast.

“True,” Kris said as he looked into the distance. “...But I bet they help.”

Across the field, the Spade's army emerged from the dark outline of the swamp. They marched forward in two staggered waves. Disposable soldiers made up the bulk of the first wave, with the heavy fighters bringing up the back in the second. Kris squinted and scanned the ranks of approaching enemies, trying to find the Spade King among them. He hoped that, at least, looking for the big bad guy would distract him from the swarm of bad guys marching towards his comparatively small army. He saw a host of terrible creatures, looking even more grotesque in the light: werewolves, mutants, ogres, Rudinn snakes, wicked wolves, and many other misshapen monsters. Across the field, Kris's army steeled themselves and waited for their leader's instruction.

Then Kris saw him. The Spade King, arriving in the midst of his followers. He rode in a chariot pulled by two giant bears. Jevil jumped off the back of the chariot, hooting in eagerness to fight. He had an axe and a bow. The Spade had only his chain weapon (or so it seemed that was all he had), and around his neck he wore a battle mantle of golden hair. That hair was Asgore's shorn mane. No-one had told Kris, but he could put one and two together.

He looked up the hill at his sister for reassurance. Chara nodded soberly. Kris turned back towards the field, and he drew his sword. He held it out, trying to look more brave than he felt. Behind him, someone blasted a heroic fanfare on a trumpet, and the army cheered. He was officially a Knight of the Otherworld as Asgore had crowned him, and this would be the battle that would show he could be a King too.

Across the field, the other King, the Spade King, glared at the stubborn Otherworldians. He grunted a deadly order to his general.

“I don't want any prisoners. I don't care about that anymore. Kill them all.”

The horrible ogre roared, raising his heavy battleaxe over his head.

“Yah! Yah!” Jevil shouted. He looked even more eager to battle than the actual leader of the Spade's army. The company of evildoers sludged forward, while Kris's army remained still. Kris raised his sword and swung it downwards in a clean arc. At first, the bad guys chuckled to themselves, thinking they had a curbstomp fight on their hands if all the enemy would do is stand still while their leader swung at nothing. Kris hadn't swiped at nothing, though. He had given a directive to a part of his army the Spade's forces had not accounted for.

The flying soldiers.

Over the hills, a large flock of winged creatures flew into view: Starwalker Birds, giant eagles, peryton deer, flying fire elementals, even small living airplanes. They carried large rocks as they soared over the battlefield.

“Yeah!” Sans cheered as they passed over.

When the winged creatures reached the enemy army, they let go of the rocks. The stone bombs fell on the Spade's soldiers with tremendous force; one rock's impact knocked out several enemies at once and threw clouds of dirt everywhere. No guess as to where Kris got the idea for this initial strike. The Spade's army had not realized what was happening until it was too late to pre-emptively ward off the attack. The ogre general saw the chaos in the sky and yelled at his men for not paying attention.

“Look to the sky!” he growled at them. The confused, frenzied soldiers glanced up to see the cause of the hail of giant stones. The ones with bows aimed up at the birds and flying creatures and let loose. Though some shots found their mark, most of Kris's air force were skilled flyers who already knew how to duck and weave away from projectiles. More boulders fell from the sky, knocking out not an insignificant portion of the Spade's army. When there were no more boulders to drop, the flying creatures sped past the enemy to double back safely.

With the initial attack complete, Kris knew it was time to charge at last. He turned to General Undyne.

“Are you with me?” he asked.

She nodded solemnly. “Come hell or high water.”

Kris tugged back on his unicorn's reins and proclaimed, “FOR THE OTHERWORLD! AND FOR ASGORE!”

The magical horse reared, then charged down the hill at full gallop. A thunder of feet and hooves rose up behind him; the army had followed him. At his sides rode the horsemen and knights of the Otherworld, spears and swords at the ready. They charged in a flying wedge formation, with Kris at the helm and everyone else close behind. The Spade's army also charged, in its two waves.

This was it; the true fight was about to begin. Kris exhaled and flipped his helmet visor down. His heart caught in his throat, but he forced it back down, telling himself to be brave for his siblings and for Asgore's memory. The Otherworld depended on him, and more importantly, so did his family.

The field space between the armies quickly closed up. It was all teeth and hooves and pointed weapons as they approached. They saw the flame in each other's eyes. The fastest of the Otherworldian army, the wolflike and catlike furry creatures. The werewolves and goblins from the Spade's army also took the lead over the rest, racing in to attack the foe. For a moment, all seemed to slow down and go quiet as the two met at the epicenter. Then the big cats leapt to tackle the werewolves, the goblins undercut the horses, and every warrior clashed together in a terrifying thunder of metal and bone.

[(|)]

Frisk and Ralsei blinked awake; they'd fallen asleep over Asgore's body in those thin dawn hours. Their clothes were still a bit dewy. The mice and Whimsun moths had gone home a while ago.

“We can't stay here forever,” Ralsei murmured. “We should go.”

“Go where?” Frisk didn't sit up.

“I don't know. Away from here, I guess.”

“I'm so cold.” Her warm cloak didn't do her much good, all wet as it was from the damp ground and dew. She stood up finally, her joints popping. It made her feel old and ragged. She and Ralsei linked hands and made their way down the stairs. As they reached the foot of the steps, however, a rumble like a small earthquake nearly knocked them down; the sound of cracking stone and a whoosh of fire filled their ears. They stumbled and bumped their knees on the hard ground.

“Ah! Ralsei!” Frisk yelped. The children caught each other and struggled for good footing. Since the din had come from behind, they scrambled back up the stairs. There, they found that the Dark Fountain had somehow extinguished, and the altar in front of it had broken in two. And there was no Asgore there.

“Oh, no! What have they done?” Ralsei cried.

Past the altar, the sun appeared to shine more brightly than before, and a great silhouetted figure appeared. The children squinted, and when their eyes adjusted, they saw it was—

“Asgore!”

The mighty Goat had returned to life, his lovely mane restored and looking a bit bigger than before. He gave them a warm smile. The children scampered down the steps and almost threw themselves on him. They cried happy tears as they rubbed their faces in the blanket of soft golden hair. Asgore chuckled.

“But we thought you were dead!” Ralsei said, lip quivering. “The knife! The Spade!”

Asgore began to pace around the cracked stone altar. “The Spade knows of the Deep Magic that governs the Otherworld. But there is a Deeper Magic still, one that extends further back than the dawn of Time. It speaks of the true meaning of sacrifice: that if a willing victim who has committed no treachery is killed in the place of a traitor, the Dark Fountain will collapse on itself and be effaced to nothing, and the altar before it will break, and even Death itself will work backwards. Do you understand?”

“A little,” Frisk said. “Is that okay?”

“It's all right, my child,” he answered with a slight chortle. “Perhaps you will understand better when you're a little older. You still have a few things to learn from the Otherworld.”

“We sent news to the others that you had died,” Ralsei told him. “And the Spade, he probably had plans to attack. Kris and Chara will have gone to war by now.”

Frisk's smile faded at that, and she furrowed her eyebrows in worry. She drew her little dagger from Santa Paws and pointed it defiantly.

“We have to help them!” she declared. Asgore smiled and placed his hoof on her hand, gently lowering the dagger.

“And we will,” he said. “We will, dear one, and we won't have to do it alone either. The two of you, climb on my back. We must hurry—there's precious little time. Oh, and you may want to cover your ears.”

No sooner had Frisk and Ralsei stopped their ears with their fingers than Asgore let loose with a mighty bray, even more powerful than the one he had thrown the Spade's way at his camp. The trees bent slightly from the force. With that, he set off at a fast gallop, on his way to accomplish a miracle. Asgore was on the move once more.


	14. The Battle

The battle engulfed the Field of Hopes and Dreams. The air was full of the clash of metal, war screams, animal cries, and the smell of sweat and blood. The strongest of the good guys, mostly skeleton monsters and anthro animals, held the line as best as they could. Many of the spears they'd carried in the initial charge had been broken by now, so they resorted to their curved swords and battleaxes. The enemy had quite a lot of steel on their side, too, and not all of their archers had been taken out by the falling rocks. Between them, the animals like the big cats and the werewolves dove in and tackled each other in a flurry of teeth and claws.

The Spade glanced about the battlefield. He ran his blue tongue over his teeth. Feeling confident that they had an opening, he jangled the reins of his chariot. The bears ambled forward with a growl, and the rest of the Spade's army took that as their signal to press forward. Kris's unicorn slogged through the crowd on the field. Kris himself frantically swatted at oncoming bad guys with his sword. Although he fended off their attacks well enough, his movements were not polished and betrayed his lack of experience. He glanced up and met the Spade's glare. The enemy continued to push forward, undeterred by the ferocity of Asgore's army. They needed a different approach.

They had one in the works, though. Back at the cliffs, Chara had surveyed the rapidly advancing line of bad guys with dismay. If they made it to the fall line here, it was all over. Then she noticed how the Spade's army moved in a straight line as opposed to the Otherworldians' flying V, and she got an idea.

Sans nocked an arrow onto his little bow. It had more than a normal arrowhead for a tip, however – this arrow had been dipped in pitch and set alight.

“Pull!” Chara cried, which is a skeet shooting term and not an archery term, but it didn't matter. Sans knew what she meant. He took aim and loosed the flaming arrow. It sailed over the field, signaling a flying fire elemental who had waited for that moment. They coasted down towards the fight, cutting across the field. Bringing up their internal heat, they ignited the grass between Asgore's army and the Spade, dividing the battlefield. The enemy squawked in surprise and snarled, and a few particularly dumb ones tried forcing through way through the literal firewall. Which, of course, resulted in hair catching on fire and skin getting burnt.

Sans let out a little “yeah!” and bumped fists with Chara. On the field, Kris tilted his visor up slightly so he could catch a glimpse of the Spade's irritated expression.

Their triumphant high was not to last, unfortunately. The Spade goaded his chariot on, and with a shot of magic from his spade-on-a-chain, he extinguished the fire. Kris's eyes widened in shock, and he threw a desperate look to his sister before deciding his next course of action.

“Draw back, fall back!” he called to his army, flipping his visor down. “Bring 'em to the rocks.”

He hoped that, by doing this, he could lure the enemy onto difficult terrain. The flat Field of Hopes and Dreams didn't give them much trouble. Also, it would bring them closer in range to the archers on the cliffs. Someone blasted a signal to fall back on a horn.

“That's the signal,” Sans said upon hearing the horn; he started to make his way down the cliff. “Come on!”

[(|)]

Frisk had always wanted to ride a pony. She entertained fantasies of galloping through a cross-country course on the back of a pretty palomino, smelling the fresh air and looking for flowery meadows. Riding on Asgore's back wasn't like that – it was so much better! The mighty Goat charged at great speed, never losing his footing, never tiring. He needed no guidance; in fact, it was the children who wondered, as Ralsei said aloud,

“Where are we going?”

And instead of a manor-green or a park or even a wooded cross-country trail with jumps to clear and muddy gullies to avoid, it was a journey through the alien wonder of the Otherworld. They passed through wild apple orchards, flowered meadows, rocky flatlands, and stately crimson forests. He did not answer the children where they were going, but between the hills, the Spade King's castle came into view.

“Hold on,” said Asgore. He galloped towards it, not even fazed by the tall iron gates protecting it. He knew exactly what to do. He leapt clean over them; in fact, he did not leap so much as he _flew_ over the tall iron poles, as though he had sprouted wings. And they landed in a courtyard full of statues.

[(|)]

Asgore's army pushed towards the rocks. All around him, Kris could hear strong voices shouting to “Fall back!” and “To the rocks!” A few leopards darted past his unicorn. Chara had moved the archers down to the base of the cliff, bringing them to a closer range. As the enemy pursued the Otherworldians, Chara's archers raised their bows and let loose a volley of arrows. Unprepared for this assault, many bad guys tumbled to the ground stuck full of arrows. Nevertheless, the Spade goaded his army to continue chasing Kris's forces.

Perched on a rock out of sight, Jevil had his own archery attack to make. Sighting Kris in the crowd, he aimed his bow and shot – not Kris himself, but his unicorn mount. The magical horse screamed and lost its footing. It stumbled as its legs buckled, throwing Kris off. He hit the ground with a pained “Uhgh!”

Chara saw the whole thing unfold and panicked. When Undyne caught sight of the army's leader sprawled out on the ground and struggling to get back on his feet, she saw red. A purple lizard monster in spiked armor – her name was Susie, by the way, and despite her brutish appearance she was one of Asgore's followers – exchanged glances with the fish woman and nodded. Together they charged at the Spade, ready to avenge their leader if need be. Kris had his back to them, too focused on the Spade rapidly advancing, and didn't realize what they were going to do until he heard their footsteps thundering behind him.

“No, stop!” he cried, but they blew past him anyway. Susie plowed through the enemy like it was nothing, tossing foes this way and that with her strength. Quite a few unlucky bad guys got skewered on Undyne's spear. The smarter ones knew when to fold 'em and dodged out of the way as the fish woman charged towards the Spade. Unfortunately, a nasty ogre undercut Susie and she hit the ground. Undyne had no time to angst about that, though, so she leapt over Susie and continued her charge.

A horned ogre leapt in front of her with a snarl, waving a battleaxe. The Spade's general! Unfazed, Undyne raised her spear. She dodged as the heavy blade came swinging down at her, jabbing the spearhead into the ogre as she ducked. To her dismay, the beast wouldn't go down, and it jumped on her back. She beat at the ogre with her weapons, until she finally jammed another spear in its back and bucked it off. It hit the ground in a cloud of dust, letting out one final roar. As quickly as she'd disposed of her enemy, Undyne drew out a sword instead of a spear.

She took a great leap at the Spade, swinging her weapon in a smooth arc, but he avoided the strike without so much as blinking. Landing on the other side of his chariot, Undyne took another swipe at him, but that was a no-sell, too. Worse still, Undyne left an open spot, and he took advantage of that. She didn't even see the spade-on-a-chain come out, not before he'd frozen her into granite.

[(|)]

Frisk looked up at a statue of a fish-man warrior with a sword. He'd been frozen mid-strike; he probably hadn't known what hit him. The Spade King's castle had begun to crumble as Asgore's return re-invigorated the land. The great Goat had warned the children to be alert and look out for falling rocks. The children glanced around at the many statues with a quiet horror, knowing their origins. Of course, there was one statue Frisk wanted to find more than any other. Well, she didn't _want_ it per se, but you understand.

They found Mr. Papyrus near the gates. Frisk made a choked-up sound when she saw his form, frozen in a silent scream with his arm outstretched. She let out a whine, and then began to cry. Ralsei hadn't a clue why Frisk was so upset over this statue in particular – she had not told him about her friend – but he wanted to comfort her. He pulled her close in a hug and wrapped his soft scarf around the both of them.

Asgore approached them, not flinching at Frisk's emotional outburst. He did not tell her to stop crying; in fact, he said nothing at all as he exhaled over the skeleton's statue. Frisk swallowed a sob and blinked when she saw Mr. Papyrus's scarf flutter in the gust of air. Then, like a spot of ink bleeding into paper, color spread across the skeleton's body. The cold, gray stone gave way to living bone and bright woolen clothes. The skeleton man stumbled and fell into the children's arms. They helped steady him on his feet.

Frisk, eyes still teary (but now with joy instead of sorrow) said, “Ralsei, I'd like you to meet Mr. Papyrus. My first friend from the Otherworld.”

“Howdy!” the goat boy answered, throwing his arms around Mr. Papyrus. They three shared a group hug. During all this time, Asgore had gone all about the courtyard giving the statues the breath of life. Now, the dreadful silence had been filled with a symphony of wonderful sounds: birdsong and cheerful voices and the neighs of ponies and the meows of cat-creatures, and the whooshing of magic flame. And instead of all the dreary grays and whites, a rainbow shone: the brilliant red and orange feathres of Starwalker Birds, the sleek silver of small living airplanes, fur in brown and purple and blue, flashes of green, vibrant pinks and yellows. The children stood in awe of it all, and Asgore nodded to them.

“Come,” he told them. “There may be more statues in the castle. Kris and Chara will need all the help they can get.”

[(|)]

The Spade casually knocked another stone statue to the ground. A second ago, it had been a good monster charging him with a sword. He smiled smugly at Kris standing at the bottom of the incline, then nodded. The teen looked around at the battlefield, and the scene before him was not good. The opposing factions continued to beat at each other in a wild fury, but events seemed to have turned in the Spade's favor. He saw mutants beating skeleton monsters to the ground with heavy clubs and ogres tossing smaller animals off the cliffs. Some of his flying fighters had fallen to enemy arrows in the initial attack, and the bad guys' archers continued picking them off in the sky as the battle continued.

The Spade glanced up when he heard a shriek overhead; two Starwalker Birds were diving in for the attack. He swung his chain-blade in a big arc as the birds swooped down. He stabbed one under the foreleg with the weapon's sharp end, then used its magic to freeze the other one into stone. Its cry cut off mid-transformation and it smashed to pieces on some rocks. Once again he threw a snide look to Kris, silently gloating over how he'd made a no-sell of the Starwalker Birds. Kris surveyed the chaos, eyes wide in shock, and turned to his sister.

“Chara!” he shouted over the noise. His sister finished off a werewolf with a quick stab, then turned to him.

“There's too many of them! I need you to find Frisk,” he went on. “Find her and go home. I'll stay back and fight!”

He thought he saw a faint head shake from her, but there was no time to ponder it.

Sans grabbed Chara's arm and started to pull her away. “He's right. Time for you to get out of here.”

They started to climb a small crag that would help them leave with minimal disturbance from the enemy. But Chara stopped halfway up and glanced back at the battlefield. She cringed when she saw the bad guys converging on her brother and the Spade turning everyone in sight into stone. He'd just ended a skeleton monster and a jaguar.

And he was headed straight for Kris.

Chara drew her sword.

Sans looked at her in disbelief. “Kris said to go home.”

Her reply was, “Kris isn't king yet!”

She dashed through the outcropping, expertly skipping through the scree in her haste. Kris took on minotaurs and ogres without hesitation, deflecting their battleaxes and machetes with admiral skill for a teenager. Still, they kept him distracted from the bigger problem that was rapidly approaching. The Spade clutched his magical weapon tightly, no doubt eager to use it on that little human annoyance. But Chara wasn't going to let that happen. She leapt off the outcropping, intercepting him before he could get to Kris. His eyes widened for a second, and then he lunged at her with the spade. Except Chara was fast. She strafed left in time, and the evil magic went nowhere. She brought her sword down in a strong sweep, and she sliced the Spade's chain weapon right off!

A blast of magic radiated out. His power was broken; no longer could he turn people to stone. As it would be the chain-blade was really a part of the evil king's body. He roared in pain and clutched the bleeding apprendange. Even under the dark marking on his face, Chara could see the fire flash in his eyes. Pulling a knife out of seemingly nowhere, he took advantage of Chara's distraction and stabbed her right in the hip.

Kris screamed her name, but no sound came out.

Chara lost her footing, and the Spade kicked her down for good measure. In that moment, the only thing that mattered to Kris was helping his sister. He found the strength of a man a bit older and quite a good deal stronger than him, and he finished off a minotaur with a powerful lunge. As he charged towards the Spade, a mutant ran at him. He bashed it away without even looking at it. The Spade watched dispassionately as he came at him in a roaring rampage of revenge. The evil king casually pulled out two swords from the body of a fallen ogre and squared up.

Every move Kris threw his way, the Spade blocked without so much as breaking a sweat. Steel met steel again and again, clanking and spitting. At times, Kris could see his enemy almost grinning. He was playing with Kris. His blocks seemed all but blasé, and he dispensed swings and lunges that made Kris dance for his life, but came to the Spade as if he'd been doing them his whole life. With each blocked strike and barely affective parry, Kris grew more tired. He really did wonder if he was going to die. To die at the hands of a crazed, sociopathic monster.

And then he heard the ROAR.

Asgore had returned. The great goat galloped onto the rocks, in view of everyone, and let loose with one of his mighty brays. A huge gathering of un-petrified Otherworldians, plus Frisk and Ralsei, were gathered around him. He'd brought reinforcements with him.

“No...Impossible!” gasped the Spade. “He's supposed to be dead!”

Asgore's reinforcements swarmed the battlefield, cutting down the enemy with ease. Turns out, finally getting to move after being stone for so long gives one quite the energy boost. They made rather easy work of the bad guys. A giant knocked out a whole squad of evil mutants with his club. Mr. Papyrus didn't even have a weapon and he did his part, shoving bad guys to the ground as he yelled “Waaaaaugh!” for his battle cry.

But the Spade recovered from his shock and horror before Kris got over his elation. The teen had to snap back into action upon hearing the enemy steel scrape. He caught a cheap shot from the Spade that rattled his armor (and his teeth). This time, the evil king was done playing; now he struck with sharp and precise blows, fully intending to kill Kris. Help had arrived, but had it come in time?

Finally, the Spade undercut Kris with a sweep of the sword and knocked him down. Kris tried to defend from the ground, but his opponent managed to punch his weapon out of his hand. Still determined to live – for his family and for the Otherworld – Kris raised his shield and blocked the hail of blows that the Spade unloaded on him. Finally, the enemy hooked his sword on Kris's shield and ripped it away; it landed out of reach. The Spade used one sword to pin Kris to the ground by the sleeve of his armor, which still ended up cutting skin and making the teen yell out in pain. Next he stood over Kris and pointed the other sword straight down; he'd pin Kris to the ground through the heart!

Or he would, if he hadn't looked up to see Asgore leaping right at him, teeth bared. The Goat's horns bashed into the Spade's skull, knocking the sense out of him, and the two of them crashed to the ground together. Dizzy from such an attack, the Spade met eyes with Asgore for a second, a small breath catching in his throat.

Then Asgore made the killing lunge. He had his back turned to Kris, so the kid didn't see much of the gory details, but...let's just say that even though Goats are herbivores, they aren't harmless. Time seemed to slow down, and the other good guys rushed past. Asgore turned towards Kris, a solemn look on his face.

“It's over,” he said. And it was. The bad guys, seeing that the Spade was dead, either surrendered or fled. But it didn't matter if some of them did flee; the Otherworldians could deal with that later, and it's also a story for another time. Frisk and Ralsei ran up to Kris, shouting his name. All three of them looked around in a frenzy, trying to figure out where Chara was.

They found her splayed on the ground, bleeding slightly and looking green. She sucked in shaky breaths, holding her hand over the spot where the Spade had stabbed her. But before they could get to her, they saw a small man hobbling up to her prone form. It was Jevil, and he yelled weakly as he raised a hatchet.

Upon seeing the Spade's henchman making moves to finish off Chara, Ralsei raised his bow and fired. He took out the nasty little jester in one shot. Then Frisk rushed to her sister's side, pulling out the healing potion and pulling out the stopper. Kris elevated Chara's head slightly while Frisk let a drop of the honey-colored liquid fall into Chara's mouth.

At first, nothing happened; in fact, Chara fell still for a moment and looked more dead than alive. Her siblings' eyes welled up with tear and dread filled them. They weren't ready to see their sister die right in front of them. But then she coughed and started to sit up. Right away Kris snatched her up in a big hug, laughing and crying a little. Frisk let out a sigh of relief, then ran off to heal the others who had fallen in battle.

“Ha...When are you going to do as you're told?”


	15. An Ending

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for coming along on this adventure. I'll come back when you call me. No need to say goodbye.

Several days had passed since Asgore's victory at the Field of Hopes and Dreams. At first the children had worried about the surviving followers of the Spade, who had fled to the corners of the Otherworld. Asgore had told them to fear not, for good would win out in the end, and who knows – perhaps even the foulest of people could have a change of heart. Chara agreed with him.

The time had come for the Otherworld to greet its new rulers. The Newhome Castle glittered on the banks of the eastern sea. A fanfare of grand trumpets and rolling drums rang out as the good guys congregated in its Great Hall. In a narthex backed by a huge leaded window there stood three thrones. Each one had a small symbol carved into its rich dark wood: a sword, a heart, and a tree branch.

A reverent silence filled the Hall as the three children approached the thrones, shoulder to shoulder with Asgore and Ralsei close behind. They were dressed in velvet finery in crimson and navy blue, and silk capes hung off their shoulders. They paused for a moment and held their breath as they surveyed the thrones they were about to rule from. Sans and Lucida carried in pillows with lovely crowns resting atop them.

Mr. Papyrus, now wearing a dapper green silk scarf to replace his worn-out wool one, picked up the first of the crowns. It was a silver circlet that looked like ivy. Pearls and diamonds, like tiny flowers, nestled in its twists.

“To the glistening Eastern Sea, I give you Queen Frisk the Valiant,” said Asgore. Papyrus set the circlet atop his friend's head and exchanged an excited look with her. Frisk giggled, feeling like a princess. No, wait, this was better – she was a Queen now! A Queen of the Otherworld! She chewed her bottom lip with excitement while Papyrus took the second crown. It was a golden diadem with topaz and emerald stones.

“To the great Western Wood,” said Asgore, “I give you Queen Chara, the Just.”

She bowed her head while Papyrus fastened the diadem in her hair. She understood the honor and the weight of her new title. A little bit of herself still doubted if she even deserved it after what she had done. As though Asgore had heard her thoughts, when she glanced up he gave her a kind and sympathetic look. A smile crossed her face.

Papyrus lifted the final crown off its pillow – a resplendent golden crown studded with diamonds, pearls, and rubies.

“To the clear Northern Sky,” Asgore announced, “I give you King Kris the Magnificent.”

Kris felt his shoulders straighten and his posture right itself as Papyrus carried it over to him. He received his title as King of the Otherworld with a deep and robust sense of honor. He had been a protector to his siblings throughout this journey, and now he would be a protector of a whole country.

“And to the radiant Southern Sun,” Asgore concluded, “I give you your new leaders. Once a ruler of this place, always a ruler of this place. May your wisdom grace us until the stars rain down from the heavens.”

The children took their seats at the thrones while the Hall broke out in applause and chants of “Long live King Kris! Long live Queen Chara! Long live Queen Frisk!”

Sans, Lucida, and Mr. Papyrus were especially loud in chanting “Long live Queen Frisk!” They weren't supposed to play favorites, but they always did like her the best. Off to the side, Toriel, Ralsei, and Lancer applauded.

The celebration lasted long into the night, with a grand feast and great music and outside, the seagulls cawed and the sea-people sang their mystic songs. Do you remember it? At some point in the night Frisk ran up to one of the giant arching windows to look out at the beach and the glittering sea, listening to the endless thunder of the waves on the sand. She saw that Asgore had, somehow, slipped away during the celebrations and walked away and alone across the beach. The smile faded from her face.

A gentle hand placed itself on her shoulder. Mr. Papyrus had joined her.

“It's quite all right,” he explained. “After all, he does have business in other countries to attend to. He will be back before you know it. And you mustn't push him. He's not a _tame_ Goat.”

The grin returned to Frisk and she linked arms with her first and best friend from this wonderful place. Frisk would remember that forever: the music, the glorious sunset, and the merriment, but most of all the friendships.

[(|)]

Years passed, and while the Otherworld didn't change much, its rulers did. Frisk grew from an awkward little girl into a...still somewhat awkward young woman who liked to walk in the woods and talk to the animals and never really cared if she got mud on her good clothes, and more than once lost track of her crown.

Chara became the face of justice in the realm, deciding all issues brought before her with a sharp mind and steady hand, and long gone was the bullish girl who'd first stumbled into that world. Yet she remained merciful in all her conduct, because she remembered how she herself had once been shown mercy.

As for Kris, the years only made him braver and nobler, as he left his boyhood and became a man. He even grew a bit of a beard, but his sisters said it looked silly on him. He led campaigns to chase out the last of the Spade's followers, or to reform them into upstanding citizens. He protected everyone within the Otherworld, from the smallest chick-a-dee to the good Giants on the mountain range. Few ever had an unkind word to say about him.

Their days in the Otherworld were filled with action, what with all the battles and adventures they had, and the time they chased the Wishing Dragon all across the countryside on a mighty hunt. They sought not to kill it, of course, but because of the legends that, if you are to catch that dragon, she will grant you your heart's desire.

The pale silver creature bounded through the autumn underbrush. Although it had no wings, it could run swift as a horse, and it gave its pursuers quite the chase. Kris, Chara, and Frisk, now adults, spurred on their horses in pursuit of the Wishing Dragon. It rounded a bend, its scales flashing in the sunlight. Chara's horse slowed to a halt as they attempted to crest a hill.

“Hup,” she muttered. “Is something wrong, Aaron?”

The horse-monster tossed his head, panting heavily. “I'm not as tough as I once was, my Queen.”

Her siblings also stopped their horses, who pawed at the dirt as they stood under a stately elm.

“Come on, Chara, or we'll lose track of the dragon,” Frisk urged.

“We needed to catch our breath,” Chara said.

Her sister chortled. “Well, that's all we'll catch at this rate! What was that you said again – 'you two can stay back at the castle, I'll get the dragon myself.'”

They all shared a laugh, and then Kris noticed something. He dismounted and stepped off towards the brush, glancing up at something. A tall iron pole rose up out of the ground, nearly invisible with how festooned in ivy it was. Nevertheless, the glowing lantern at its top gave it away.

“What's this?” he asked. For it had been many years since their arrival in the Otherworld, and they saw things a bit differently these days. “I feel like I remember this from a dream. Or perhaps a dream of a dream.”

“It seems...familiar,” Frisk remarked, eyebrows furrowing. “Wait...I know this. Ebbot.”

She jumped off her horse and darted through a cluster of trees. The leaves shook in her wake.

“Wait, Frisk! Come back!” Kris called, following her.

“Oh, not again,” Chara complained. The three of them forced their way through a thick growth of branches, grunting and “ouch”''ing as leaves and twigs slapped them in the face. But eventually, it was not rough branches that brushed against them, but something soft. Something very plush and furry. Like...fur coats.

“Say, these aren't branches,” Kris remarked.

“Why, they're coats, fur coats!” exclaimed Frisk.

“Ow! Get off my toe.”

“I'm not on your toes! Stop shoving!”

As they stumbled through the mess and told each other to stop stepping on toes and shoving, their voices changed from adult voices to those of children. And then all at once they fell through and landed in the other side, Our World, not as adults, but as the children they had been when this adventure began.

Kris looked up, blinking. There he and his siblings were, in the same spare room of the Professor's house. They were wearing their old clothes, and the light had not changed outside the window. The shadows had barely budged! It was as though no more than a few minutes had passed since they entered the wardrobe.

The door at the other end of the room swung open. In walked the Professor, holding a small round object—a softball. His eyebrows raised at the sight of the three children on the floor.

“Oh! There you are,” said he. “Now what were you all doing in the wardrobe?”

The siblings glanced at each other for a second and giggled.

“We could tell you, sir,” Kris said, “but you'd never believe us.”

The Professor smirked and tossed him the softball. “Try me.”

[(|)]

Frisk blinked and rubbed their eyes; no more were they in a Professor's spare room. No, instead they were still wrapped up in their blankets, in their own bedroom, in their usual nonbinary self. They sat up, leaning their pillows against the headboard, and thought for a minute. Oh, it had all been a dream, a long and wonderful dream. Frisk looked over at their nightstand, where a book titled _THE LION, THE WITCH, AND THE WARDROBE_ lay, right where Sans had left it.

Someone knocked on the door, and Frisk glanced up. “Yeah?”

It creaked open, revealing Sans. “Hey kid. Undyne made pancakes without burning the house down for once. Do you want any?”

Instead of answering his question, Frisk went into chatterbox mode. “Dad! Dad! I had the craziest dream last night. I dream that me and Kris and Chara went to Narnia, except it wasn’t called Narnia, and everyone there was someone I knew! The King of Spades was the bad guy and Asgore was the good guy and I met Sans and Papyrus’s mom, and Chara was mean but had a change of heart, and we fought in this big battle, and we got crowned kings and queens!”

He paused for a second, a bit ruffled from their outburst, and replied, “Some dream.”

“Oh, and I was a girl for some reason,” Frisk added.

“That’s even weirder. Anyway, did you want pancakes? They're a little burned, but—“

“Sure.” Frisk tossed off their blankets and climbed out of bed.

“All right. I'll go make sure Papy saves some for you.” Sans exited the room, leaving the door wide open. While Frisk was stopped in their middle of their room, they heard an odd rumbling noise outside. As though it was a muffled roar of sorts. They rushed over to the window and pulled up the shade, and—

Frisk had to do a double take when they saw it. For there, in the not-so-distance, stood a great Lion. The morning sun made his fur shine golden, and his glorious mane fluttered slightly in the wind. His eyes were like drops of dark honey, and Frisk felt quite frozen in place when the two of them locked gazes. This Lion needed no introduction. Aslan first nodded solemnly to the child, but when he glanced up again, he also threw a playful wink their way.

Frisk blinked, and just as abruptly as he'd appeared, Aslan had left. But they had the feeling they'd see him again, and perhaps sooner than later.


End file.
